


There's really nothing quite so sweet as tiny little baby feet

by Merrily_Merrily



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Aged-Up Character(s), Alpha Jean-Jacques Leroy, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Alpha/Omega, Breast Growth, Children, Co-Parenting, Denial of Feelings, Divorce, Established Friendship, Established Relationship, Future Fic, Infidelity, JJBella, Knotting, Living Together, M/M, Male Lactation, Menstruation, Miscarriage, Mpreg, Omega Yuri Plisetsky, Parenthood, Past Relationship(s), Pregnancy, Self-Lubrication, Sex, Unrequited Love, Unrequited Otayuri
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-06-11
Updated: 2019-07-20
Packaged: 2020-04-24 10:17:02
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 107,020
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19171249
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Merrily_Merrily/pseuds/Merrily_Merrily
Summary: Yuri wants a baby but not another complicated relationship. JJ offers his services, but when has their relationship ever not been complicated?Or, JJ helps Yuri get pregnant and Yuri blogs about it. (Or, the way to Yuri's heart is through his stomach, in more ways than one.)Some people marry their first love. Others make a mess of things with their second.(This is a rewrite, because I regret my decision not to follow my original outline, and I got frustrated with the last one when I tried to push forward.)





	1. Knowing Me, Knowing You

**Author's Note:**

> Hey, y'all. You might notice that I'm starting this fic over. The more I tried to continue the previous version, the more I regretted not sticking to my outline. I changed it before to make it a little more light-hearted, but as I prepare to try and get pregnant myself, I find myself gravitating back to the fic I originally wanted to write. Don't worry, the seven chapters I uploaded before are still there for viewing.
> 
> The changes to this first chapter include: an edited introductory blog post; expanded social media posts; a completely new first scene; edits to the second and third scenes (which were previously the first and second); a couple of differences to the state of Yuri's relationships with both JJ and Otabek; and the last scene from the old first chapter is being moved to the beginning of chapter two. Fortunately, after this chapter, there aren't a lot of significant changes to the plot until chapter six, so the next few updates should require nothing more than a copy/paste and some editing to account for the return to my original timeline.
> 
> As with the previous version, I have not decided what male omega genitalia is like in this universe. Does Yuri have a vaginal opening behind his dick? Does everything happen in the ass? Who knows. I just refer to the baby making area as a hole. You can decide what kind of hole it is. The baby will come out of it either way. All omegas do, however, have a normal menstrual cycle instead of heats. That means ovulation (lots of people get horny when they ovulate, so I guess it’s kinda like a very watered down version of a heat) and periods (of course, people get horny on their periods, too). All of y'all repeat readers know that already, but just in case someone new comes along... there you have it.

 

 

“Knowing me, knowing you,  
There is nothing we can do;  
Knowing me, knowing you,  
We just have to face it,  
This time we're through.  
Breaking up is never easy, I know,  
But I have to go.  
Knowing me, knowing you,  
It's the best I can do.”  


\- [“Knowing Me, Knowing You”](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Dpsn_mgEJ_w) by ABBA

* * *

 

 

> **The Tiger’s Den**
> 
> Home       [About](https://i.imgur.com/ed7Svya.png)       Cats       Personal       Yurochka
> 
>  
> 
> **In which I am a shit human being...**
> 
> POSTED ON 31 OCTOBER 2022
> 
>  
> 
> My older sisters have it so easy.
> 
> Fuck them both. Fuck them and their perfect lives that make me fucking sick. (I don’t even care if you’re reading this, Lena. You can fuck right off.)
> 
> My oldest sister Vera — you know the one. The annoying, happy-go-lucky bitch who likes to rub her boring, fairytale life into everyone’s faces? She met her husband at a party years ago. Drunk off his ass. Couldn’t even slur two words together. But he came onto her and she spent the next year swooning over him. Then of course they had the perfect wedding, followed by the perfect home. Now they’re having the perfect baby. Everything Vera says is “the baby this” and “the baby that.” And the baby’s fine, you know? The baby never did anything wrong. Grow strong, baby! Grow strong and rule the fucking world! But it’s like Vera has to remind everyone that she’s pregnant, every second of every day, like we can’t look at her and tell. _We know_ , Vera. It’s hard to miss. You’re as fat as your husband now.
> 
> Then my other sister Lena. (Hi, Lena. Again, please fuck right off.) She’s the hag with the irritating voice. The one who tries to shove her nose into my business all the time. The one who used to drag me to parties I didn’t want to go to. The one who introduces me to a fuck ton of obnoxious alphas I don’t want to date. She spent years pining over her best friend. I had to listen to her bitch and moan and sigh about it, even though everyone could tell her best friend spent half her fucking time pining over Lena too. Finally they both got their act together, got married, and then before you know it, Lena got pregnant. One would think maybe Lena would mind her own fucking business for once and focus on her unborn baby, but no. Now she’s even worse about trying to set me up with someone. We don’t live in the same fucking country anymore, but she sends me pics and links to alphas she knows on social media like “What do you think of this one? They’re really nice.”
> 
> FUCK OFF LENA I DON’T CARE.
> 
> She does it because she wants me to be happy, and she doesn’t think I can be happy without “someone special” in my life. Vera does it, too, just in a different way. Vera doesn’t try to set me up with people, she just asks annoying questions. “Are you seeing anyone? How are things with Denis? Don’t you think it’s time to move on? How do you expect to meet someone if you’re always shut away in your apartment?”
> 
> Fuck off, Vera. Maybe I don’t want to meet people. If I wanted to date around, I would be out there dating, but I’m not, because I don’t care. Dating is bullshit. I don’t have any patience for bullshit. Just because your perfect husband fell into your fucking lap at a party doesn’t mean it’s that easy for everyone.
> 
> It’s actually really fucking hard, and it sucks ass. Especially because I _am_ seeing someone.
> 
> Sort of.
> 
> Both of my sisters are happily married with babies on the way, and here I am fucking around with a married man.
> 
> (I expect a call from Lena thirty minutes after posting this. Don’t bother, Lena. I don’t want to talk right now. I’ll send you straight to voicemail.)
> 
> Before any of you say anything: Yes, I know I’m a terrible person. I’ve never tried to deny that. I could go out and date and find a normal relationship, but nope. I’d rather take the easy way out and fuck someone I already know, and if he happens to be married already, oh well. I’ve done worse things. (I _haven’t_ done worse things.) Do I feel guilty? No, not really. That’s probably not the answer anyone wants to hear, but it’s the truth. I don’t feel guilty. I feel angry. I feel cheated out of something that could have been real. I feel lost and confused and I have no idea what the fuck I’m doing, and all it does is make me even more bitter toward my sisters and their fucking perfect lives.
> 
> Because of _course_ my life can’t be like that.
> 
> I know I should care more about the fact that this man is married. I should feel some actual sympathy for his wife, who I’ve known for years. I’ve known both of them for years. She and I have never gotten along, but I know that doesn’t make the situation any better. If anything, it makes it worse. I’m having sex with her husband and she has no idea, and sometimes I tell myself I’m doing it out of spite.
> 
> Am I?
> 
> I don’t know anymore. It’s easier to pretend I’m being vindictive than it is to admit I might have feelings for him.
> 
> I hate feelings. You know that already. They always complicate things. First I fell for Denis, who clearly didn’t return my feelings; I should have known better than to let myself get carried away with my best friend. Now there’s this _thing_ with… let’s call him Ivan. There’s this _thing_ with Ivan. I know I should put a stop to it before I get in too deep, but there’s a part of me that doesn’t want to.
> 
> Now that I think about it, it’s probably the part of me that still feels bitter about the Denis thing, and everything else I want but don’t have. Combine that with the fact that I hate Ivan’s wife, and that Ivan and I have had a sexually charged friendship for a few years now, and you’ve got the perfect recipe for disaster.
> 
> I’m sure it’s all going to blow up in my face sooner or later. There’s no other way this can possibly end.
> 
> That isn’t going to stop me from seeing him this weekend.
> 
> Now you all know how awful I am. (And Lena probably knows _exactly_ who I’m talking about, to which I say: Fuck off. You don’t get to tease me about this. You don’t get to judge me either.) I thought about disabling comments for a while just so I don’t have to deal with the lectures I know are coming, but maybe a few kicks in the ass will do me some good.
> 
>  
> 
> TAGGED: Personal, Family, Relationships, Yulia is a dumb fuck

* * *

[A selfie of Yuri and JJ taken during practice for the Cup of China. JJ sports his usual grin while Yuri looks vaguely annoyed, though it’s obvious he doesn’t particularly mind the proximity, otherwise he would have put more space between them, or he wouldn’t have bothered looking at the camera at all.]

**38,360 likes**

**Jjleroy!15** Long time no see @yuri_plisetsky #CoC2022 #beijing #rivals #frenemies #russianfairy #russianpunk #icetiger #jjstyle #goforgold

 **mila-babicheva** Wish I was there. We have a lot of catching up to do. :|  
**Jjleroy!15** @mila-babicheva Maybe next time!  
**+guanghongji+** Two of my besties in my hometown without me  
**yuri_plisetsky** @+guanghongji+ Sucks that you got pregnant and decided to stay with your baby daddy  
**+guanghongji+** @yuri_plisetsky You’re only bitter like this when you’re jealous  
**yuri_plisetsky** @+guanghongji+ Ugh  
**+guanghongji+** @yuri_plisetsky Shut up you miss me  
**phichit+chu** Remember the days when Yuri used to pretend he hated us all?  
**Jjleroy!15** @phichit+chu I think he actually did hate me for a while though  
**phichit+chu** @Jjleroy!15 What did you do to win him over?  
**Jjleroy!15** @phichit+chu I guess I’m just that charming  
**mila-babicheva** @phichit+chu @Jjleroy!15 :|  
**yuri_plisetsky** You saw me at the end of April  
**Jjleroy!15** @yuri_plisetsky That was seven months ago  
**mila-babicheva** @yuri_plisetsky @Jjleroy!15 That was also at my wedding :|  
**+guanghongji+** @mila-babicheva What’s with all the :| faces???  
**mila-babicheva** @+guanghongji+ You don’t want to know  
**yuri_plisetsky** @mila-babicheva Fuck off hag

NOVEMBER 3

* * *

Yuri would have woken to another unremarkable morning in another unremarkable hotel room if it wasn’t for the possessive arm draped over his side, or the scent of a familiar alpha behind him, exuding contentment with every warm breath against the back of his neck. 

Before he can think better of it, Yuri inhales and draws the scent in deep. Almost as soon as his lungs are filled with it, Yuri’s chest tightens and his stomach rolls uncomfortably. Something sad and heavy settles over him, leading to a shaky exhale he forces himself to release slowly, lest the minute tremors that work their way through his body rouse the man behind him. By the time his lungs are empty again, he’s repressed the feeling enough that his next breath comes unimpeded, and he can go on pretending he doesn’t understand the reason for the struggle.

It could be regret, for once — that he finds himself here, _again_ , when he knows everything about this is wrong, when he’s already deemed himself one of the worst people on Earth for even entertaining the thought of this, whatever his feelings for certain ignorant parties might be.

Or, against all reason, it could be the one bitter emotion he’s spent so long trying to deny.

 _Jealousy_.

Because this moment isn’t really meant for him. It was always meant for someone else. Someone less hostile. Someone more appreciative of the intimacy. Warm and sated Yuri might be right now, but it won’t last. It never does. They’ll part ways for several weeks — probably even longer, given the results of this weekend’s competition — and nothing will ever come from this. Nothing good, anyway. All they’ll have will be distance, and the inevitable hurt that will occur once their fling finally ends.

And it _will_ hurt, far more than Yuri wants it to. Away from this place, he can return to his denial, tell himself this means nothing, just a passing fancy and a severe lapse in judgement. But here, drowning in that scent, with warmth at his back and an arm holding him close, he knows beyond a shadow of a doubt that he’s already gone too far to come out of this unscathed.

This was a mistake. Last night, and seven months ago, and two months before that. All of it. Every kiss. Every touch. Every whispered word.

Yuri forces himself to continue breathing normally. He glares at the hand near his chest, grasps it and twists the ring that circles one of the fingers, over and over again. His fiddling nearly pulls it off; he only catches himself when it passes over the knuckle. He pauses, waiting for the body behind him to shift awake, but nothing happens. The hand doesn’t twitch. A deep voice doesn’t murmur teasing words into his ear. Battling a mix of relief and disappointment, Yuri slides the ring back into place and releases a heavy sigh into his pillow.

No more than a minute later, his phone rattles with a text message on the bedside table, followed quickly by the sound of another phone doing the same on the opposite side of the bed. Yuri jerks in surprise and instinctively reaches out for his, muttering a curse as his fumbling knocks an empty wine glass to the floor. His phone follows, earning a few more choice words grumbled through Yuri’s clenched teeth.

The figure next to him lurches awake then, catching Yuri before he can tip too far over the side of the bed in his quest to reach his phone, which vibrates again as soon as the tips of his fingers brush against it.

“Careful,” mumbles a low, sleepy voice.

A swarm of butterflies take flight in Yuri’s gut, brushing their delicate wings along his stomach. His heart skips a beat along with them, either from the uncommonly gravely tone or the hands against his naked skin — hands that are dry and rough from calluses, but which still touch him so softly. Yuri scowls and ignores the ridiculous fluttering sensations as well as he can, yanking his phone off of the floor as his bedmate hauls him back into place.

Yuri flops onto his back. He checks his messages instead of glancing at the man beside him, only to find three texts and a picture that makes the sad, heavy feeling in his chest melt away, then sink lower and reform.

His face must have shifted expressions enough to give him away — or his scent did it for him — because the tired voice asks, “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing,” Yuri says, with enough conviction that it should come across as true. “Just Leo. Luna was born.”

That has the other man to perking up, rolling away long enough to reach for his own phone. He has an easier time of it and settles back into place quickly, just as a few congratulatory messages start coming into the group chat.

Yuri tears his eyes away from the picture, and the gushing from Phichit, Viktor, and Yuuri that has only just begun. He stares up at the ceiling and takes a calming breath, then finally looks to the man who has become his lover.

JJ is sluggish in the mornings, slow to regain his usual energy after a night of dancing, and wine, and sex. His eyelids droop. The silver-blue of his irises looks dull and gray in the gloom of a room lit only by the scant sunlight filtering through the closed drapes. JJ reclines on his back with an arm thrown behind his head, his tired expression turning wistful as he stares at the picture of a newborn baby, full lips quirking into a soft smile while he taps out a response with his thumb.

The undercut JJ had for much of his adolescence is long gone, though locks of short black hair still fall over his forehead. He’s no longer perpetually clean-shaven either; the lower half of his face has been covered in a layer of rough stubble for months now. Even his chest sports hair, when once he kept it smooth. It’s a good look on him, but terrible, too, because it allows Yuri’s greedy mind to think of this version of JJ as _his_. JJ wasn’t like this when he met his wife. He wasn’t like this when he married her. He wasn’t like this ever in all the years Yuri has known him — until February, when he arrived in Beijing to watch the Olympics.

Yuri sighs again and backs out of the group chat to send congratulatory texts to both Leo and Guang Hong in private. Then he mutes the group chat, lacking the patience to deal with the cooing and fawning that will surely increase once the rest of their friends wake to the news. He briefly scans JJ’s responses, but casts his phone aside at the first use of the word “Mel.”

Closing his eyes to everything, Yuri struggles to steady himself.

 _This is so fucked up_ , he thinks.

Part of him wants to be selfish, to turn and demand that JJ make up his mind about their relationship — if it can be called that. Either JJ wants his marriage, or he wants _this_. He can’t have both. His wife would never allow it, certainly not with Yuri as the third party. Yuri likes to think he’d stand a chance if pitted against her, that there must be something going on at home to push JJ to him, but it could just as easily be JJ’s impulsiveness leading him to engage in these illicit encounters. Or maybe he really is that arrogant, like Yuri always thought. Maybe, behind his wide smiles and his purported generosity, he’s nothing more than another rich, scumbag alpha cheating on his wife because he wants to — because he _can_.

The other part of Yuri wants to run far, far away, cut JJ from his life and never look back, preferably _before_ JJ has the chance to turn him down, because he _knows_ JJ in ways he never could have imagined as a teenager. JJ isn’t at all what Yuri wants to believe him to be. His ego is not as grandiose as he pretends; JJ puts on an act for the public, the way many people do to cope with scrutiny and fame, but he mellows out in private. Between the teasing and the laughter, he’s gentle and sweet. As the subject of his undivided attention, it’s easy for Yuri to forget JJ’s marriage.

At least until he catches sight of JJ’s wedding ring, which is ever-present, and a continuous reminder that JJ’s commitment lies elsewhere.

 _I’m so fucked_ , Yuri thinks.

He never should have let things progress this far. It was a stupid idea nine months ago, and it’s an even stupider idea now. They were never meant to be anything. They were rivals first, then barely friends. Now they’re nothing. That’s all they _can_ be when their relationship has no future. JJ made vows to someone else, and Yuri…

Yuri has no one, just friends and family who think they’re helping when they ask, _“Aren’t you lonely?”_

He wasn’t, until all the fantasies he once entertained began to fall apart. JJ never had a place in any of them before, and he shouldn’t now.

What is it, then, that’s pushing Yuri to do this?

The bed shifts as JJ moves, and the clatter of a heavy duty case against the bedside table alerts Yuri to the fact that JJ has discarded his phone. It doesn’t vibrate again, either because the conversation has concluded for the time being, or because JJ has chosen to mute it, too. Yuri lies still as JJ returns to his side, supporting himself above him. The heat of JJ’s body washes over Yuri, and a hint of concern seeps through JJ’s notoriously stringent control. His nose brushes along Yuri’s neck, and Yuri tenses. JJ makes no effort to disguise his next inhale as anything other than what it is — an attempt to gauge Yuri’s mood.

“You’re sad,” he mumbles, lips grazing Yuri’s skin. His voice has lost some of the tired gravel, but behind closed doors, it remains deeper than the buoyant tone he uses in public.

Yuri squirms before he can rein in the impulse. The stupid butterflies haven’t gone away, despite his many attempts to get rid of them.

“I’m tired and I have a headache,” he counters. He doesn’t have to feign annoyance, at least; it comes to him naturally. “And it’s a long flight back to Saint Petersburg.”

The best lies always have some element of truth to them. They were up all night, drinking and dancing at the banquet, then drinking again and talking for hours once they locked themselves away in JJ’s room. They stuck to the usual subjects — skating, their friends, their coaches, their training, all the gossip that worked its way through their fellow competitors that weekend. Then they had sex in the early hours of the morning, after they’d spent enough time pretending they had no intention of doing so. Yuri won’t allow himself to dwell on the memories, though he was not so drunk as to forget.

He never is.

Maybe it would have been better if he was.

“Not as long as it’ll be for me,” JJ says.

Yuri opens his eyes to glare at him — at JJ’s stupid, sexy smile and his stupid, joyful eyes and his stupid, disheveled hair. “This isn’t a competition.”

JJ laughs quietly. He props himself up on one arm and, never breaking eye contact, takes one of Yuri’s wrists into his hand. JJ brings it to his mouth and kisses the Olympic rings Yuri had tattooed there earlier in the year. His lips graze the skin once, twice, before setting Yuri’s wrist down again. Then JJ leans over to kiss Yuri’s forehead, the tip of his nose, before moving on to his lips.

It’s too soft for Yuri’s liking. An affair shouldn’t be like this, tender and warm and lingering. It should be quick and perfunctory.

It should be dirty.

It’s too easy for Yuri to pretend that this is real when JJ kisses him like that — when JJ’s lips touch his hair, or his temple, or his cheek.

JJ keeps a hand around Yuri’s wrist, stroking the tattoo with his thumb. Yuri can’t handle the sweetness, so he opens his mouth and coaxes JJ’s tongue out, but even then, JJ kisses him maddeningly slow, until Yuri’s chest seizes with longing. Arousal bleeds into JJ’s scent, though it doesn’t overwhelm the contentment yet; he’s savoring the contact too much. Frustrated, Yuri breaks away and bares his neck for more attention. JJ takes the bait this time; the rough scratch of his stubble sends a shiver down Yuri’s spine, pulls the quietest moan from Yuri’s throat. Latching on, JJ adds another mark to the ones already peppering Yuri’s skin.

By contrast, JJ’s body remains completely unblemished, other than some bruising from a fall on the ice. He bears no marks from Yuri’s teeth, or the suction of his mouth. There are no scratches from Yuri’s nails for JJ’s wife to see. Yuri’s scent will wash off in the shower, and any scant remnants will fade away beneath JJ’s cologne.

 _This isn’t real_ , Yuri reminds himself. _It’s a sham_.

He should leave immediately — get up, pull last night’s clothes on, and make the walk of shame back to his own room. He can’t be here anymore, can’t fall any further into this travesty of a relationship. He should send JJ back to his wife and never speak to him again. They’re no good for one another. What were they even thinking the first time they tumbled into bed together? This is insanity.

That has to be it. They’ve both gone temporarily insane. Nothing else makes sense.

JJ’s lips create a path down Yuri’s neck to his shoulder. From Yuri’s shoulder, he travels down Yuri’s chest, ghosting over Yuri’s thundering heart before lowering to suck a nipple into his mouth. Yuri twitches and holds back another moan. His unrestrained hand sinks into JJ’s hair, holding him in place when he should be shoving him away.

There’s a moment when he considers it, but the thought dies with the first scrape of JJ’s teeth against him.

 _One more time and we’re through_ , Yuri decides.

Then Yuri yanks JJ off, dragging him back up for a searing kiss. JJ groans his satisfaction into Yuri’s mouth. He sinks against Yuri, releasing his wrist to run gentle fingertips over the side of Yuri’s face. His scent fills Yuri’s lungs with every inhale, suffocating him — a mix of pleasure and comfort and something else Yuri can’t define, something warm and wistful and delicate that leaves Yuri breathless.

Yuri would swear at him, except JJ’s mouth is hot and enticing against his own. He tugs hard on JJ’s hair, until JJ takes the hint and firms his touch, grabbing Yuri’s jaw to manipulate the angle of their kissing to his liking.

This is how Yuri would rather have him, forceful and rough, so they’re both denied the opportunity to think these encounters are anything meaningful. Fuck sentimentality; that shit is pointless. Neither of them were the type for it until sex came into play, at least not when it came to each other.

Before the Olympics, their barely-there friendship was nothing more than a continuous cycle of push and shove. JJ taunted him, and Yuri snapped insults back. JJ acted like a pompous douchebag, and Yuri refused all manner of association with him. In the brief pauses between, when JJ dropped the aggravating behavior long enough to be amiable and sympathetic, Yuri still kept him at arm’s length, spilling his complaints about a variety of topics and giving JJ ample time to respond, but never allowing their moments of camaraderie to create a clean slate for them the build from.

Somehow, through the combined forces of distance, time, and regret, they found a new beginning anyway.

Only it was the wrong one.

Impatient with the direction of his thoughts, Yuri strives not to think at all. He bites at JJ’s bottom lip, then releases it to drag his tongue over JJ’s stubbled chin. JJ catches his mouth again and grinds against Yuri’s hip, earning a gasp and another quiet moan. Yuri lowers a hand to JJ’s hard cock, which pulses within the circle of his fingers. JJ’s hips twitch forward, slowly thrusting into Yuri’s fist, teasing himself. Yuri rubs the pad of his thumb over the head, then slides his hand down to squeeze the base, where JJ’s knot will eventually swell.

He wants it more than he’s ever wanted anything in his entire life, and that is exactly why he can’t allow himself to have it.

When JJ shifts over him more fully, Yuri’s legs fall open — an instinctive reaction Yuri doesn’t notice until JJ climbs between them, his scent spiking with a mix of excitement and relief. Mortified, Yuri shakes the haze of lust from his brain long enough to push at JJ’s chest, signaling for him to make room. JJ shifts back just enough for Yuri to roll over, propping himself up on his forearms and his knees.

It’s better this way. He can’t look JJ in the eye when they do this, can’t let himself watch JJ’s face, terrified by the thought of what he might see there. Yuri ignores the subtle thread of disappointment he senses, unsure if it stems from JJ or from himself.

JJ moves into place behind him and kisses up Yuri’s back, from the knob of one bone to the next. His hands go to Yuri’s splayed thighs; they slide up to Yuri’s hips, then palm his ass, squeezing greedily. JJ’s scent thickens, cloying in the cool air of the room, and his next groan is guttural, vibrating through his chest.

Yuri releases a stuttered breath. He angles his hips invitingly, but still manages to sound annoyed when he says, “You have twenty minutes before I have to leave. Fuck me hard and fuck me fast.”

Whether it’s true or not, Yuri can’t be sure without looking at the time. Either way, he doesn’t plan on staying much longer. He’s already delayed more than he should have. Sleeping in JJ’s bed was a monumentally stupid idea — another mistake to go with all the rest.

JJ leans over to mouth at Yuri’s neck, pushing Yuri’s long hair aside to gently bite at his nape. With a pout in his voice, he mumbles, “So much for a romantic morning.”

Yuri shuts his eyes and grounds out, “When the fuck has any of this ever been romantic?”

“I just thought we could—”

 _No. This is_ not _happening_ , Yuri thinks.

“ _Fuck me, JJ_ ,” he snaps out loud, “or I’m leaving right now.”

He almost expects JJ to balk. There’s a momentary lull, tense and uncomfortable. Something sour breaks through the intoxicating scent of JJ’s arousal, so faint Yuri would’ve missed it if he wasn’t paying close attention. If Yuri wasn’t so stubborn, if he had less control over himself, he might let his regret spill through. He keeps a tight grasp on it, pushing it down beneath the swarming butterflies and the heat of desire in his gut.

JJ regains his composure quickly enough. Perhaps being thwarted and snapped at isn’t enough to turn him off from sex after all. The mattress jostles as he adjusts his position, cock brushing against Yuri’s inner thigh. Yuri cants his hips expectantly, but JJ makes no move to enter him. His fingers drift to Yuri’s entrance instead, teasing the wet hole before slipping in. Yuri thrusts back and takes two fingers deep, releasing a moan just loud enough to be encouraging.

“Come _on_ ,” he complains. It’s not quite a whine, but close enough for it to go straight to JJ’s head.

The fingers move excruciatingly slow, purposefully avoiding the most sensitive spot inside of him. Yuri shifts again to take more, but JJ pulls out and waits for Yuri to go still.

“I didn’t ask for your fucking fingers,” Yuri snarls at him.

“You’re meaner than usual this morning,” JJ says, sliding his slick fingertips up Yuri’s spine.

Yuri glares at the headboard and flings a hand back to smack at JJ’s flank. “Knock it off,” he seethes.

“See? _Mean_.”

“What made you think I was ever nice?”

JJ chuckles, but it’s low and sad. “I could tell you, but I don’t think you really want to hear it.”

His fingers plunge back into Yuri’s body just long enough to determine that he’s sufficiently wet. He should have figured that out the first time, but Yuri decides not to snap at him again. He’s temporarily mollified once JJ replaces his fingers with the blunt head of his cock, at least until the initial thrusts come just as slowly as JJ has done everything else. Didn’t Yuri make it abundantly clear to him that slow is not on the menu for today? Or _ever_? Slow is for people with a deeper connection than they’ve ever had with one another. Slow is love and romance and all that gross shit that has never been in the cards for them.

So Yuri rocks back and takes JJ’s entire cock in one smooth slide. He hisses through the ache, still sore from two rounds earlier that morning, but he craves the discomfort as much as the pleasure — perhaps more. He can focus better with the combined pleasure and pain, instead of letting himself float away, high on euphoria.

“Slow down,” JJ says, skating a soothing palm over Yuri’s side. His voice is strained, body tense, primed to start, but he holds himself back.

It would be admirable if Yuri was in the mood to be more appreciative of the concern.

“You piece of shit,” he swears. “ _Move_.”

JJ hesitates a moment longer. Bitterness grows along the edges of his arousal as he rears back. Yuri considers that JJ might actually change his mind, pull out and send Yuri on his way, leaving both of them unsatisfied. There’s been tension between them before, but not like this — fueled as it is now by sadness and anger and something like defeat. Yuri prepares himself for the inevitable parting of ways. He presses his forehead into the bed, closes his eyes as he waits, hanging on a precipice, uncertain.

But JJ shoves his hips forward, _hard_ , punching the air out of Yuri’s lungs.

Yuri gasps and moans and whimpers a breathless, “ _Oh_ …”

JJ draws back again, waits until the anticipation has reached its peak, until the last threads of Yuri’s patience are about to wear out, then slams in so forcefully the resulting jolt nearly knocks Yuri flat onto the mattress. The third time, Yuri is better prepared, adjusting his arms and knees to brace himself more firmly against the bed.

“Fuck, _yes_. _JJ_ …”

After the fourth, fifth, sixth time, JJ picks up the pace. His speed increases exponentially, but his thrusts lose none of their strength. Each one is as brutal as the last, leaving Yuri little opportunity to match his rhythm. He can only hold himself steady and ride it out as JJ pounds into him — like he’s punishing Yuri for not giving him what he truly wants; like he’s punishing himself for wanting it in the first place; like he’s reminding himself, reminding both of them, what this should have been from the very beginning.

Yuri dissolves into drawn out moans he struggles to keep quiet, muffled into a pillow and interspersed here and there with wheezing curses.

This is exactly what they need. They can get it all out now — all the desire and passion and the mixed feelings of their adolescence — then make a clean break and move on, return to their lives as if nothing ever changed between them.

Yet JJ’s hands, whether they’re gripping Yuri’s hips or skimming patterns over Yuri’s sides, remain as tender as they were when he first touched Yuri’s face, and the words that tumble from his lips offer a stark contrast to the jarring motion of his pelvis.

“You’re so perfect.”

Yuri forces his mouth shut before he can respond.

What part of this, what part of him, what part of _them_ could ever possibly be perfect? This is madness. Yuri is no good for anyone, let alone someone who already has a loving wife. Together, they’re hopeless fools making the biggest mistake of their lives. They’re incompatible. Even without JJ’s wife in the picture, they could never work. They’re too different. There’s too much shitty history holding them down.

“ _Baby_ …” JJ groans.

 _Baby baby baby_. That’s what he chanted last time. That’s what he said at the Olympics. _“Baby, you’re so beautiful. Baby, I want you. Baby, please. You’re so good, baby.”_

And Yuri ate it up, because he already felt hurt and rejected before JJ came into the picture, and he wanted someone, _anyone_ , to treat him like he mattered, to act like he was the most important thing in all the world.

JJ gave him that. He sidled up to Yuri, tipsy but aware enough to know better, and he made Yuri feel like the center of the universe. He never tore his eyes away to look at someone else. He never said thoughtless things that made Yuri question whether he was wanted or not. He kissed and touched like he was in danger of being swept away by a violent current, and Yuri was the one thing keeping him tethered to shore. JJ was so attentive, so generous with his affections, Yuri didn’t think about his wife until later, when they were lying in bed together, sweat and come drying in the aftermath, and he felt the cool metal of JJ’s ring against his skin.

Even with that reminder, he couldn’t resist a second time.

How could he resist now?

“You’re so tight,” JJ gasps, thrusts stuttering until he modifies his stance enough to account for the increasing tension in his body.

Yuri very nearly sobs his pleasure into the pillow. “ _JJ_ …”

He’ll feel this for days afterwards. Tonight, when he’s home in his apartment with only the cat for company, watching boring shows on the television or struggling to find something of note on social media. Tomorrow, when Yakov and Lilia force him to take a day off to rest, and he has nothing better to do than lie around and relive the memories with little more than his hands and an unsatisfying toy at his disposal. Then the day after that, and the day after that, and the day after that, until he can’t stand the reminder anymore, until he’s driven himself crazy with all the what-ifs and the what-could-have-beens, lying awake at night cursing himself for another failed relationship, swearing to himself over and over that it’ll never happen again.

Yuri doesn’t let himself moan anymore, doesn’t let himself fall further out of control. His gasps and heavy breaths and the occasional soft “fuck” are all that escape his mouth. On another particularly ruthless thrust, his eyes threaten to roll back in his head, so he keeps them closed and concentrates on the ache, which has quickly become lost beneath the pleasure. Desire swirls hot and heavy in his gut, strengthening with every wild beat of his heart. The rest of his body may as well have ceased to exist for all the care he gives it. All that matters is JJ’s cock in him, splitting him open, driving him out of his mind.

He loses track of time. Minutes pass, then hours, then seconds and days. The only thing keeping Yuri rooted to reality is the slap slap slap of skin against skin, and the wet sound of JJ pumping into his slick hole. JJ doesn’t force himself quiet; his moans increase in volume, like he _wants_ someone to overhear — like the risk excites him, or he just doesn’t give a damn anymore.

But he has to, doesn’t he? Otherwise, he would have taken off his ring months ago.

All too soon, or not soon enough, JJ’s thrusts grow erratic. The base of his cock begins to swell, dragging deliciously against Yuri’s insides and catching on his hole every time it’s pulled from his body. Yuri reaches between his legs to tug at his own cock, tight and fast, racing for the finish. An undisguised whine tears from his throat. He tosses his head from side to side, forehead rolling against the bedding, caught between what he wants to happen, and what he knows the end of this _should_ be.

“Can I knot you?” JJ asks, panting, one hand on Yuri’s hip, guiding his movements, the other braced beside Yuri’s head, holding himself up. He mouths at Yuri’s shoulder, scent overpowering. “ _Please_ …”

“Fuck—” Yuri forces himself to stop before he can give an answer he might regret.

_Yes. Yes, do it._

What would it be like if he let himself say it? How would it feel if JJ buried himself inside of him and came?

 _I can’t_ , Yuri thinks. _I’ve fucked myself over enough as it is._

“ _No_ ,” he gasps out at the last second, just as his restraint begins to slip.

JJ’s knot swells further, moments away from the point of no return, and Yuri comes with a low, frustrated, almost feral groan, cock pulsing in his hand. His body clenches tighter around JJ, who pulls out immediately after, jerking himself until he follows Yuri over the edge, come splattering all over Yuri’s ass.

With every last ounce of energy drawn out of his body, Yuri sinks down, going boneless against the bed. JJ catches him with tender hands, hoists him back up and cradles Yuri to his chest. He takes hold of Yuri’s face, softly now, and turns it, guiding him around for another kiss. Yuri’s mouth opens to it before JJ even has the chance to prod at the seam of his lips with his tongue. They kiss slow and languid, like they have an eternity here instead of the minutes quickly passing them by. JJ’s hands hold him close and touch his skin in soothing strokes down his sides, over his chest and stomach.

Eventually, Yuri breaks away to focus on breathing. JJ lowers him to the mattress and stretches out beside him, brushing Yuri’s hair out of his face. He presses his mouth to Yuri’s forehead and holds it there.

 _This isn’t real_ , Yuri has to remind himself again. Now that his desire has been sated, the butterflies return. _He’s married. He has a wife and a_ —

Yuri turns his face into the pillow. He can’t complete the thought. If he does, that sad, heavy something will settle back over his chest, rip the ground from beneath him and leave him flailing for purchase.

Fingers skim over his back, following nonexistent trails or drawing nonsense only JJ understands. Yuri squirms and grumbles unintelligibly, too tired to complain more than that. He would sleep again if he felt confident he could actually wake up before Yakov and Lilia start looking for him. His phone remains silent on the bedside table, but the screen could light up at any second, vibrating with a demanding text or an angry reminder that they’ll be due at the airport soon.

“I have to go,” Yuri says, voice muffled by the pillow he considers using to suffocate himself.

“I know,” JJ responds.

Contentment dominates his scent again, but beneath that is a trace of sadness. One of his hands slides down Yuri’s back in a comforting gesture, at least until it reaches his ass. JJ gives it a gentle squeeze, then smears his own come around, massaging it into Yuri’s skin.

Yuri groans in disgust. “Fucker. Now I have to shower.”

“You were going to shower anyway,” JJ says, far too amused for Yuri’s liking. His hand drifts lower to bestow a feather-light touch to Yuri’s sore hole. “Can I join you?”

“No,” Yuri hisses, slapping JJ’s hand away.

“Why not? Embarrassed?”

Either he’s completely misinterpreted Yuri’s mood, or he’s being an idiot on purpose. It’s difficult to say which. Sometimes, Yuri is shocked by JJ’s intelligence; other times, he’s left speechless by JJ’s utter stupidity. He still can’t tell if or when that stupidity is fake. At this point, JJ’s had too much acting experience. He’s better at putting on a front than Yuri — always has been, truth be told.

“What the fuck would I have to be embarrassed about?”

His wantonness in the midst of this affair, maybe; the shame is more present now that it used to be. Or perhaps he should be embarrassed about the butterflies, and what they mean, and how he can’t seem to get rid of them even when he’s not in JJ’s presence. When he thinks of JJ, or looks at a picture of him, or reads a text or a comment on social media, there they are, fluttering away until he feels sick from them. His only consolation is that JJ has no idea.

That’s the hope, anyway. When JJ noses at his neck, Yuri can’t be sure his scent doesn’t broadcast his feelings loud and clear.

When he has the determination and the energy to rise, Yuri pushes JJ away and rolls out of bed. The disappointment surfaces again, from either of them or both of them at once. Yuri has to look away and concentrate on retrieving his clothes from the mess on the floor.

“Don’t follow me,” he snaps, glaring a warning over his shoulder.

JJ lifts his hands in submission, smile lowering into the subtlest frown.

Yuri shuts himself away in the bathroom and locks the door for good measure. He scowls when he catches sight of himself in the mirror — skin irritated from JJ’s stubble, and mottled with bruises from JJ’s mouth. His hair is a tangled mess, frizzy from sleep and wavy from the braid he had it bound in last night, before JJ pulled it loose and sank his fingers into it. Yuri’s eyes, even narrowed with annoyance, are still fever-bright from his orgasm.

He takes a long, unhurried shower, using the time to steel himself for his inevitable departure, refocusing his thoughts now that JJ isn’t there to distract him with his careful hands and his handsome face and his perfect cock. _This is it_ , Yuri decides. This is the last time. After he leaves, he’ll do what he should have done months ago. He’ll remove JJ from his life, pull himself free from whatever infatuation keeps him coming back for more, and forget all about their affair. He’ll hate JJ like he used to, or ignore him entirely if that’s safer, turn his back on him once and for all.

It won’t be easy, but he’ll manage it. He’s gotten over heartache before.

Now that stubbornness has set back in, Yuri refuses to accept that it was JJ who helped him do that.

He doesn’t _need_ JJ. Doesn’t _want_ him. Doesn’t _care_ about him. Everything that’s happened since the Olympics happened because he was bored. Not because he was lonely. Not because he was upset. Not because he felt like shit for the way things spiraled out of control years ago. He had two Olympic gold medals to his name and nothing better to do until the closing ceremonies, and JJ was _there_ , ready and willing for reasons Yuri couldn’t give a shit about. That's JJ’s business, not his. JJ can go home to his loving wife and justify this to himself however he wants to.

Yuri washes away the sweat, and the come, and the persistent scent of _alpha_ that clings to his skin. He rinses his hair until the ghost of JJ’s fingers has gone. He cleans each intimate area without his thoughts drifting off. He doesn’t wince at the lingering soreness or the weariness of his muscles any more than he does after a difficult day of practice.

Once it all swirls down the drain, Yuri is back in control, and he feels a bit more like himself again.

Who was that person he became in bed?

Surely not Yuri Plisetsky.

After drying off, Yuri slips back into last night’s clothes. He uses the comb on the counter to work the tangles out of his damp hair, ignoring the unfamiliar toothbrush, the tube of toothpaste, the deodorant, and the facewash, moisturizer, and cologne. The less the sees about JJ’s life, the easier it’ll be to put JJ out of his mind. It’s bad enough that he knows what JJ’s cologne smells like, what his mouth tastes like after he’s brushed his teeth.

Yuri steps out into the bedroom, as prepared as he’ll ever be to face JJ after the night they’ve had. He finds JJ still in bed, scrolling through his phone, but it’s set aside as soon as JJ’s attention returns to him. Yuri forces himself to stand straight, to remain unaffected when their gazes meet, to keep his expression neutral even as his insides roll and a voice screams in his head that he’s stupid stupid _stupid_. He can’t let himself think about how handsome JJ looks with his hair rumpled and his eyes alight with the afterglow of a good fuck. He can’t let himself look at the strong arms that held him, or the warm chest that pressed against his back, or the dark tattoos he could trace his fingers over for hours and still find something new hidden within them.

This is the end. It has to be.

But there’s still a piece of him that wants to hold on, wait just a little longer, give JJ the time to make his choice.

Except there’s no guarantee JJ would choose him, and that’s not something Yuri’s willing to risk.

JJ must sense something about Yuri’s intentions, because his face falls. The curve of his mouth lowers, and his eyes, so pleased and inviting only seconds ago, glimmer with concern and sadness.

“We should talk,” he says, voice low with resignation.

 _No_ , Yuri thinks. _Not now. Not_ ever _._

Coldly, he asks, “About what?”

“About this,” JJ replies, carefully, like he knows what Yuri means to do.

JJ’s scent is indiscernible now, reined in and kept contained beneath all the protective barriers he puts around himself, all so he can play a role. This one is new — neither the boastful King nor the charming lover. Yuri might think the situation has left JJ vulnerable, if JJ had ever truly been vulnerable with him before. That’s a privilege reserved for his wife.

“I don’t have time,” Yuri tells him, approaching the bedside table to retrieve his phone. “There is no _this_. It was sex. That’s it.”

Maybe it _was_ just sex before. It’s getting harder and harder to convince himself that’s still the case, when he can no longer look JJ in the eye with anything resembling certainty.

“Come on, babe, you know that’s not—”

“ _No_!” Yuri snaps, stepping away when JJ reaches for him. He glares menacingly, scrounging up the remnants of his adolescent hatred — _anything_ to make this easier. “We don’t have the sort of relationship where you get to use endearments like that. This doesn’t mean _shit._ ”

In light of the reaction that follows, he may as well have slapped JJ across the face. JJ flinches back as though burned, dropping his hand to clutch at the blanket, suddenly silent and helpless. His thick eyebrows rise, then lower and furrow, as his expression shifts between confusion, loss, and pain. His mouth works like he means to say something but can’t come up with the right words. He looks young — younger than Yuri has ever seen him, except in pictures and video — sad and defenseless in the wake of Yuri’s hostility, which he must have thought gone.

Before Yuri can think himself too harsh, before he can wonder what the devastation in JJ’s eyes might mean, he turns on his heel and stalks toward the door.

“I have to go,” he says.

_Don’t stop. Don’t look back. Don’t let him know you’re forcing yourself. Don’t show any weakness. Don’t give him any more power over you._

It’s better to leave this way. He’ll let JJ off the hook, and neither of them will have to struggle with where to go from here.

As he makes a hasty retreat, Yuri holds his breath, just in case JJ’s scent slips out. His own must be wavering all over the place, lurching from anger to sadness to frustration in quick succession, combining with fear and mortification and the smallest shred of hope in a dizzying stream, until it’s all overcome by the gloom of misery. He shuts the door and practically runs down the hall, taking the stairs two at a time to the floor below, skirting around housekeeping on his way back to his own room, where he throws himself into packing his things.

He won’t let himself think, won’t let himself picture JJ’s face, won’t let himself succumb to stupid things like heartbreak. He never loved JJ, never envisioned a future where they could be together, never had any expectations beyond sex. He knew from the start exactly what this was. There were no delusions, no fantasies for him to drown in.

_But I still wanted him to pick me._

Yuri tosses clothes and shoes and costumes into suitcases without any regard for what goes where. His phone vibrates with texts from Yakov and Lilia exactly when he expects it to. He barely has time to change clothes, then cover the hickeys and beard burn before they’re at his door, ready to leave for the airport. Neither of them ask where he went after the banquet last night, though Lilia gazes at him in concern on their way out of the hotel.

“You’re unsettled,” she observes.

That’s an understatement if Yuri ever heard one.

“Headache,” he explains.

Yuri offers nothing else, and she doesn’t question him further. Yakov grumbles something about watching his alcohol intake, but Yuri shrugs him off and ignores the warning.

Their journey from the hotel to the airport passes without issue. The more distance Yuri puts between himself and JJ, the more relief sets in. He won’t see JJ again until the Grand Prix Final, as long as they both manage to snag a spot. If not, then it won’t be until Worlds. Either way, he’ll have enough time to work through the tangle of emotions clogging his brain. The next time they’re face to face, he’ll be prepared. Everything will be as it once was, years ago when JJ didn’t matter at all.

That isn’t true, though, is it? JJ always mattered, in a way, even when Yuri didn’t want him to.

They make it all the way to Saint Petersburg without Yuri checking his phone once. Only when they land and wait for their luggage at baggage claim does he feel brave enough to wade through his notifications. Most of them are from the group chat, but there are three from JJ — sent hours before, when Yuri was already long gone.

Yuri doesn’t respond.

He opens JJ’s contact and blocks him.

* * *

[A picture taken of a city skyline through the window of a hotel room. The sky is gray with clouds. The mountains in the background are white with snow. Yuri’s reflection appears faintly in the glass. He looks to be dressed down in sweatpants and a hoodie.] 

**19,378 likes**

**yuri_plisetsky** Goodbye again Grenoble. Thanks for the gold. Next stop: Colorado Springs. #winner #grenoble #internationauxdefrance2022

 **v-nikiforov** Congrats Yura!!!!  
**yuri_plisetsky** @v-nikiforov What the fuck are you doing on social media???  
**v-nikiforov** @yura_plisetsky I need something to do while I’m recovering :(  
**phichit+chu** Another one to add to the collection!!  
**yuri_plisetsky** @phichit+chu Was there ever any doubt?  
**phichit+chu** @yuri_plisetsky None whatsoever  
**+guanghongji+** ONE MORE WEEK AND YOU’RE MINE!!!!!  
**yuri_plisetsky** @+guanghongji+ I’ll have you know my heart belongs to Leo  
**+guanghongji+** @yuri_plisetsky LE GASP!!!!!!  
**leo_de_la_iglesia** @+guanghongji+ @yuri_plisetsky I will cherish it always!  
**+guanghongji+** @leo_de_la_iglesia @yuri_plisetsky HOMEWRECKER!!!  
**mila-babicheva** @+guanghongji+ @leo_de_la_iglesia @yuri_plisetsky :|  
**katsuki-y** I’m glad the drama at home didn’t distract you too much  
**yuri_plisetsky** @katsuki-y I’m still pissed off that you left without saying anything  
**katsuki-y** @yuri_plisetsky Sorry :(  
**v-orlov** Humility has never been your strong suit  
**yuri_plisetsky** @v-orlov Fuck off

NOVEMBER 28

* * *

Based on prior experience, Yuri expects the Family Health and Birthing Center to be a cold, severe, and clinical place.

As it turns out, it’s quite the opposite. The building is cozy, as far as medical facilities go. Yuri enters into a wide, spacious main floor lobby, which boasts expansive windows through which an abundance of natural light filters in. In lieu of advertisements and medical posters, cheerful landscapes and soft hued abstracts decorate the walls. The cleanliness and modern design of the furnishings speak to the Center’s newness; even the waiting area, frequently a place of restlessness and discomfort, has a welcoming air of warmth. It might not have been a terrible place to pass a few hours, if waiting had been necessary.

“Yura!”

A large white sculpture rises from the middle of the tiled floor, bearing the appearance of a bouquet of lavender, currently lit by small white lights. Beneath it stands Yuuri Katsuki, smiling brightly as he waves in greeting. His eyes seem heavy with fatigue, but he exhibits done of the anxiety or stress Yuri assumed he would be met with.

“Where’s Viktor?” Yuri demands.

“Where do you think? Up in his room.” Yuuri says. At some point not long after they met, he got over the unease he showed Yuri during their first interaction. Yuuri's eyes twinkle when he looks at him, like an older brother might watch the amusing antics of a younger sibling. “Where are the others?

Yuri clicks his tongue in annoyance and responds, “Taking their fucking time.”

As if on cue, Lilia, Yakov, and two of Yuuri and Viktor’s trainees, Kenjirou Minami and snot-nosed Vasiliy Orlov, make their way into the lobby. Yuri taps his foot and glares at their slow pace, irritable by nature but even more so now, after a long day of multiple flights delayed by inclement weather.

“Will you _hurry up_?” he snaps at them. “We don’t have all fucking day.”

Yuuri puts a settling hand on his shoulder, which Yuri almost shrugs off. He’s halfway through the motion when he forcefully aborts it, freezing with his shoulders drawn up beneath his ears. The situation being what it is, he figures he should make an effort to be more accommodating. Even now that he can see for himself that Yuuri is not the nervous wreck he was the last time they saw one another over a FaceTime call that weekend, Yuri’s brain continues to supply him with images of Yuuri’s stricken face.

“We are in a hospital,” Lilia scolds him, glaring Yuri down disapprovingly. When they both stand flat-footed now, he's taller than her, but she still manages to look down her nose at him. Yuri suspects she buys her heels higher than she used to specifically for that purpose. “For once in your life, consider your language and make an effort to conduct yourself with some class.”

Yuri scoffs and rolls his eyes, but he shuts his mouth around a snide response.

“How’s Vitya?” Yakov asks.

“Fine,” Yuuri says, and it must be true because neither his scent nor his smile waver. “Come on. I can take you to him.”

They check in at the front desk, where they’re each given a visitor’s sticker. Yuri has barely slapped his onto his jacket before he’s veering toward the elevator, narrowly avoiding a collision with Kenjirou, who watches with some caution as Yuri violently mashes the elevator button. There’s nothing for Yuri to do but prowl back and forth while he waits for it to descend, earning another reproving look from Lilia. Yuuri remains unconcerned, if not faintly amused.

“Don’t worry so much,” Yuuri says. “Everything’s as well as can be.”

Old habits lead Yuri to argue, “I’m not worried.”

“Yes, you are,” Kenjirou counters.

At least he has the grace to look appropriately admonished when Yuri glares at him. Vasiliy Orlov, on the other hand, grins cheerfully and struts toward the elevator, gazing at Yuri like he finds Yuri’s foul mood entertaining.

“He’s been snapping at everyone since you left Grenoble,” Vasiliy tells Yuuri. “I’m surprised he didn’t get kicked off the plane. He almost made one of the flight attendants cry.”

Yuri would wring the kid’s neck if he thought he could get away with it. His fingers form a tense curl as he imagines it, but it wouldn’t be worth the effort _or_ the scolding he’d get if he tried. He’s too old to be letting a stuck up eighteen-year-old alpha brat like Vasiliy Orlov get under his skin, even if nothing would give Yuri more pleasure in that moment than to kick Vasiliy down a ped. When age finally tempers Vasiliy’s cheerful arrogance, perhaps he will no longer be quite so insufferable. For now, he is little more than an annoyance, prancing around with even more self-importance than having Viktor Nikiforov and Yuuri Katsuki as his coaches should allow.

Often, Vasiliy’s behavior brings to mind that of another pompous asshole — one Yuri would prefer _not_ to think about after all the trouble he’s gone through to keep his mind elsewhere.

Yuuri chuckles quietly, which seems out of place under the circumstances, but it eases Yuri’s temper by a fraction. The fact that Yuuri can laugh at all must mean he’s not lying when he claims that everything is fine. Still, Yuri can’t accept it until he sees for himself. He didn’t spend the last days of the Internationaux de France in a state of constant anxiety just to let go of it without visible proof that his concern is no longer warranted.

It’s an excellent distraction, in any case.

Yuri stomps into the elevator when the doors finally open. He lurks in one corner while the rest file in. They give Yuri his space, too well acquainted with his temper to pay it much more attention. Vasiliy leans in Yuri’s direction like he might want to tease again, but Kenjirou, twelve centimeters shorter and significantly more slender, shoves Vasiliy into the opposite corner before he can try.

The trip up is short, though Yuri’s impatience aggravates his nerves enough that traveling two floors feels like an eternity. When they arrive, he shoulders Yakov out of the way and steps out to get his hearings, but they’ve come to another lobby and he has to wait for Yuuri to lead them onward.

Their journey takes them through a pair of double doors, then down a long, quiet hallway lined with empty rooms. If Yuri was expecting anything from this place, it wasn’t silence or seclusion. Perhaps the atmosphere is meant to calm and comfort others, but there’s something decidedly eerie about it. Where are the bustling doctors? The anxious parents? The screaming infants?

Stationed halfway down the hall on the left is another reception desk. Three nurses sit behind it, shuffling files or working on their computers, and chatting as they go about their business at a leisurely pace. Either they’re all betas, or whatever they use to mask their scents makes them virtually indistinguishable from one another. They call out a cheerful greeting when Yuuri passes, which Yuuri returns in his naturally friendly way before leading Yuri, Yakov, Lilia, Kenjirou, and Vasiliy to a closed door on the right side of the hall.

He barely has it open before Yuri barrels into the room.

“Yura!” greets a loud, chipper voice.

There Viktor rests, with his bright eyes and his animated smile, sitting up in a hospital bed while an old rerun of some short-lived reality show plays on the television mounted on the opposite wall. He’s made himself at home since taking up residence here. A pair of fluffy slippers peeks out from beneath the bed. Fashion magazines litter the room, along with a couple of sweaters, and blankets Yuri recognizes from Yuuri and Viktor’s apartment. The room is clean otherwise, spotless in a way Yuri usually associates with a hospital, though nothing smells too sterile. Rather, it smells no different than if Yuri were to walk into Yuuri and Viktor’s living-room — their mindgled scents not overpowering, but soft and relaxed.

Some of the pillows tucked behind Viktor’s back clearly aren’t hospital issue. Viktor isn’t even wearing a hospital gown, but a pair of striped lounge pants, a faded, oversized t-shirt from the 2014 Sochi Olympics, and a silk robe. The only thing to mark his role as a patient are the hospital bracelets circling his wrist. Yuuri’s mother sits beside him, fussing over Viktor like he’s her own son.

The scene is so completely at odds with the drama and despair Yuri imagined, his first reaction is to stand there and gape.

Quickly, he shakes himself out of it. Lilia, Yakov, Kenjirou, and Vasiliy troop in behind him, exchanging their own greetings until Yuri speaks over them and demands, “What happened?”

The answer he receives his frustratingly nonchalant. Viktor beams and says, “You already know what happened.”

“I want to hear it from you,” Yuri argues.

Viktor sighs like he finds the whole thing exceedingly tedious. All the same, he consents to answer. “I came in for my appointment on Friday afternoon. Karina’s heart rate was too low, so they performed an emergency c-section.”

“And you didn’t notice something was wrong beforehand? She didn’t stop moving?”

Lilia tuts at him, and Yakov says “ _Yura_ …” with a warning in his voice. Yuri ignores them both as he stares Viktor down. Perhaps it’s unfair of him to sound so accusing, but he’s been stressed out about this for three days. How can everyone else possibly be so _calm_?

Viktor’s smile drops, at least. His eyes lose some of their brightness. His expression falls, haunted all of a sudden. If Yuri could force his unease aside, he might have some pity for him, maybe even experience a bit of guilt for causing the reaction. As it is, that shaken look is the only thing about this situation that makes any sense — far more appropriate than the smiles and the laughter. Viktor _should_ be upset; Karina’s due date isn’t for seven more weeks, and Viktor went through the ordeal alone.

A hand drops onto Yuri shoulder again, heavier than it was down in the lobby. Yuri startles out of his indignant glare and glances at Yuuri, whose eyes haven’t lost any of their warmth even if his smile has grown strained.

“Let’s go see Karina,” he says. “Just you and me.”

Yuri almost refuses. They’ve just arrived and he hasn’t finished interrogating Viktor yet. He still has so many questions. Was it something Viktor did that led to this? Will the early delivery cause any problems in the future? But the others direct their growing disapproval Yuri’s way. Yakov and Lilia frown severely; they probably plan to rant at him about his insensitivity later. Kenjirou stares sadly, clearly at a loss, and Vasiliy’s amusement has finally given way to something that might be irritation or defensiveness. Even Yuuri’s mother seems displeased, her scent awash with disappointment, and she probably doesn’t even understand much of what’s been said, speaking very little Russian herself.

In the end, Yuri relents and allows himself to be steered out of the room. Yuuri shuts the door to give the rest of them some privacy, then leads Yuri passed the reception desk, down a shorter hallway to another set of double doors that open at the press of a large square button on the wall. Yuri follows quietly, convinced he’s about to receive a lecture — an uncommon move on Yuuri’s part, but not totally out of place, given the situation.

Through the doors, a sign indicates that they have arrived at the Special Care Nursery. Immediately to their right are two sinks, which Yuuri motions Yuri over to. Yuri removes his jacket to push up his shirt sleeves and copies Yuuri’s meticulous scrub down of his hands and arms, glancing over what he can see of their destination as he does so. There are two dimly lit rooms in the immediate vicinity, each closed off by a sliding glass door. Inside, medical equipment lines the walls, including an incubator, with a couple of comfortable armchairs situated by the back windows.

Once they’ve dried off, Yuuri guides him further down the hall. Several more rooms line one side; opposite them is a third reception desk manned by more scentless nurses. Yuuri stops in front of the room marked with the number five, then carefully slides the door open.

Yuri trails inside behind him, tossing his jacket onto one of the armchairs before approaching the incubator where Karina sleeps.

A chart on the wall lists her name, her weight, and her length.

> Karina Katsuki
> 
> 1.89kg
> 
> 43cm

She’s bigger than Yuri expected her to be. Lengthwise, she’s close enough to full term, but her weight is notably lower that it would have been on her due date. Her limbs are spindly, with long fingers and toes — all accounted for, Yuri makes sure. She wears only the tiniest diaper Yuri has ever seen, a single hospital bracelet, and a knitted cap on her head, which has twisted out of place enough to expose a few thin wisps of dark hair. Tubes and wires obscure much of her face, but her eyes, even closed in sleep, remind him of Yuuri.

“You can touch her if you want,” Yuuri says.

Carefully, Yuuri opens a circular hatch on the side of the incubator, allowing Yuri’s hand to slip inside. Yuri keeps his touch gentle, stroking one of Karina’s palms with his thumb. Her skin is warm, and the softest he’s ever felt.

“Hi, Karinka,” he whispers to her.

She doesn’t move or make a sound. Obsessively, Yuri watches the steady rise and fall of her chest.

“Can I hold her?” he asks.

“Not yet,” Yuuri says. If he senses Yuri’s resulting disappointment, he doesn’t mention it. “Viktor hasn’t even held her yet.”

It’s difficult to say by the quiet tone of Yuuri’s voice if the comment was meant to be chastening or not, but it works all the same. Guilt settles heavily on Yuri’s shoulders. He breathes deeply through it, trailing the pad of his thumb down the length of each of Karina’s fingers.

Before it can get stuck in his throat, Yuri forces out an apology. “Sorry…”

“I know Viktor seems like he’s okay,” Yuuri continues, “and he is now, for the most part, but this was really hard for him.”

“I know,” Yuri says. “That’s why it’s bullshit when he acts like nothing’s wrong.”

Yuri would not be able to smile if he were ever in Viktor’s place. Independent though Yuri is by nature, he would have been afraid. His stomach twists just at the thought of it — whisked off to an emergency surgery with no one but the hospital staff for support. Even Viktor, chipper though he might seem, must have been distraught. He was so excited for Karina, so happy to finally start a family with Yuuri, so uncharacteristically careful during his pregnancy, it must have been a shock to come in expecting everything to be normal, only to find out that wasn’t the case at all.

And then to be prevented from holding her…

Sadness grips Yuri’s heart in a way he’s unaccustomed to — his maternal instincts being somewhat less distinct that Viktor’s have grown.

“They couldn’t find her heartbeat at all at first,” Yuuri explains. “No one was with him. By the time Georgi got here, the c-section was already over.”

It could be another reprimand in disguise, or it could simply be Yuuri’s attempt to come to terms with all that occurred in his absence. Whatever the case, Yuri’s stomach gives another uncomfortable twist, and his grip tightens over so gently around Karina’s tiny hand.

He glances at Yuuri, whose face has fallen enough to show some of his grief. There’s an emptiness to his eyes, which are usually so warm and expressive. Yuuri’s scent doesn’t fluctuate as much as it used to years ago, when he was less skilled at managing his anxiety. Any changes are therefore harder to pick up unless Yuri makes a point to sniff them out. The smell of him is melancholy now. Knowing Yuuri as well as he does, Yuri suspects he’s beating himself up inside — heartbroken that he wasn’t here for Viktor, or for Karina. All those old inadequacies that plagued him in the past must be haunting him again.

Yuri does what he can to offer comfort. He won’t hug Yuuri, but he reins in his own guilt and uncertainty, in the hopes that his scent might present itself in a more soothing manner.

“You made a pretty baby,” he says, staring through the incubator.

A smile lightens Yuuri’s voice when he replies, “You think so?”

“Yeah,” Yuri says. With the toe of his shoe, he nudges the side of Yuuri’s foot and jokes, “You can father my children if you want.”

Yuuri’s resulting laugh is soft, but filled with amusement. “I’m flattered, but no.”

“All you have to do is jizz in a cup.”

“I still don’t think Viktor would be too happy about that.”

Yuri scoffs. “Viktor can learn to share.”

“Can Otabek?” Yuuri asks, voice light and teasing.

Yuri’s breath catches, stuck somewhere in his throat. His heart throbs once, then stops beating altogether. He can’t look at Yuuri, much less answer with the scorn he used to display as a young teen, back when the comments first began.

Once, it all made sense; the possibility was there. Of course everyone took their chance to weigh in on the subject. Yuuri and Viktor were frequent commentators. Mila made her observations, too — joking little remarks Yuri eventually learned to ignore. Yakov and Lilia never said much, nor did Dedushka or Otabek’s family, but the expectation was visible in every knowing glance. Otabek’s mother still looks at Yuri with hope in her eyes every time he sees her, like she expects he’ll be the one to finally give Otabek’s aimless love life some direction.

He won’t be — doesn’t want to be. Not anymore. He can admit to that at least, even if he can’t acknowledge all the reasons why. The real challenge comes in disabusing others of the notion. So few of their friends and family are aware that his relationship with Otabek has no sexual component any longer, that the fire burned out ten months ago, only for the cooling embers to spark elsewhere.

The topic catches Yuri off his guard. He’s done well to move on, to focus on things that have nothing to do with his own issues. To be reminded of them now drops him right back into the anguish he thought he’d managed to escape. He can’t think of the mess with Otabek without also considering the wreckage of his affair with JJ. One thing led to the other, so quickly yet so seamlessly that his feelings on each matter are nearly intertwined.

Now isn’t the time for any of that. Karina and Viktor are more important.

When the silence stretches on so long as to become awkward, Yuri finally says, “We’re not like that.”

Who is he even talking about anymore, Otabek or JJ? Who is he trying to convince, Yuuri or himself?

Yuuri glances at him. Whether he does so in surprise or disbelief is difficult to determine from Yuri’s peripheral vision.

“No?” Yuuri says, in that jaunty way people use when they’re trying to encourage an explanation.

Yuri shakes his head — a short, jerky movement meant to ward off further conversation.

Confusion creeps along the edges of Yuuri’s scent. His voice softens when he says, “Always seemed that way to me.”

This time, Yuri doesn’t answer.

Which is worse: that it still seems that way to other people? That it once seemed that way to him? Or that his thoughts haven’t gone to Otabek in months, stuck as they are on a different man?

This entire time, has no one suspected a thing? They were all so discerning before, when his choice of partner was more appropriate. Are they blind to it now, or willfully ignorant? Were he and JJ really so successful at keeping everyone in the dark?

Yuri inhales deeply and lets it out on a slow sigh, determined to hold the bitterness and disappointment at bay. Despite his best efforts, he struggles to dampen his scent.

In the incubator, Karina’s thin fingers curl around Yuri’s thumb.

* * *

[A short video of Viktor holding Karina against his chest. Some of the larger tubes have been removed, but a thin feeding tube trails into her nose. Every few seconds, her tiny body jolts as she lets out a sudden, short, high-pitched squeak.] 

**48,219 likes**

**yuri_plisetsky** The cutest hiccups. With @v-nikiforov #babyviktuuri #cute #babyhiccups

 **+guanghongji+** SHE’S SO CUTE I COULD SCREAM!!!!  
**yuri_plisetsky** @+guanghongji+ Even I am not immune to her cuteness  
**+guanghongji+** @yuri_plisetsky To be fair, you’ve been making grabby hands at babies for a while now.  
**phichit+chu** OMG!!!!! SHE’S PRECIOUS!!!!!!  
**yuri_plisetsky** @phichit+chu Calm down  
**phichit+chu** @yuri_plisetsky I always knew baby Viktuuri would be the sweetest thing but I was still somehow unprepared  
**yuri_plisetsky** @phichit+chu She gets none of that from Viktor  
**v-nikiforov** @yuri_plisetsky @phichit+chu If you think I’m upset that she looks like my Yuuri, you are sorely mistaken.  
**mila-babicheva** Yay Karina!!!! Getting stronger every day!!!  
**v-nikiforov** @mila-babicheva We miss you Mila!!!!  
**mila-babicheva** @v-nikiforov I miss you too!!!!  
**yuri_plisetsky** @v-nikiforov @mila-babicheva Gag  
**christophe-bc** Elias can’t wait to meet her!  
**v-nikiforov** @christophe-gc COME SEE US SOON!!

DECEMBER 1

* * *

For a vast majority of his life, short though it’s been so far, Yuri has had no particular fondness for children. 

As a young boy just starting out on the ice, he hated other children his age. He was different, or _they_ were, and he had difficulty getting along with them. He didn’t care for their teasing, or for any of their stupid games. He wanted to skate, and that meant sacrificing a social life. None of the other children he trained with were as dedicated to the sport as he was. None of them had the same natural talent either, and the younger ones who idolized him proved to be annoying. Every last one of them got in the way. They were little more than a useless distraction, and there was no point to their company.

Occasionally, as he grew, Yuri considered the possibility that his views might change with time. He thought that, because he had good instincts in other areas of his life, the ones associated with his omega sex might develop and come into play when the time was right — and if they didn’t, so be it; he could find fulfillment in life regardless. When he experienced no significant changes after his cycles began at the age of thirteen, he was far from troubled by it. None of it mattered. Neither sex nor romance nor children seemed as if they would benefit is skating in any meaningful way, so Yuri continued to judge them as unimportant.

Children were a nuisance. He coached them on the ice during Yakov’s summer camps, because Yakov insisted the experience would be good for him, and he greeted them with smiles during fan events and meet-and-greets, because Lilia insisted it would be a benefit to his image, but that was all. The longer Yuri focused on his career, the less he could foresee a circumstance in which he might care to explore the idea of motherhood.

“She’s so fucking cute, isn’t she?”

He revised his opinion later, when Otabek came into the picture and all of their friends began to retire, marry, and have children one by one. Suddenly, Yuri had more of a reason to consider what he wanted from life after competing.

“As far as babies go, yeah.”

Otabek appears about as impressed as he does when he’s in the presence of his nieces and nephews, which is to say that he cares only so far as he has to, and no more. There’s a hint of amusement in his voice, but he lacks the eagerness Yuri has witnessed in many of their other friends.

Through the computer screen, Yuri makes a careful study of Otabek’s face as Otabek scrolls through the pictures Yuri just sent to his phone. Stoic as he is, Otabek’s expression rarely changes. Sometimes there might be an unusual brightness to his eyes, or a subtle change to the curve of his mouth, but those reactions are typically reserved for skating and music, or whomever might have captured his attention at any given time. At the moment, Otabek shows no more than a polite interest; there’s some fondness, but it’s muted and distant. There’s nothing to imply a deep, emotional investment in the topic, beyond Otabek’s concern for those he considers to be his friends. He thumbs through the pictures, but only lingers on a few of them, long enough to be polite, to study Karina and learn her features, before he sets his phone aside and moves on.

“I got to hold her today,” Yuri tries to keep the topic going.

“How was that?” Otabek asks.

“Weird. Sometimes it was like I wasn’t even holding anything. She only weighs half as much as Pavel and Lidiya did.”

Otabek snorts. “Viktor will never forgive you if your drop his baby.”

Yuri can pinpoint it exactly — the moment he first imagined a child as a part of his future.

It was the middle of May, and he was eighteen years old. Otabek stayed in Saint Petersburg for several weeks that off-season, and happened to be around when Georgi’s wife Nadya had their first child. When Yuri and Otabek joined the others for a hospital visit, Viktor would not shut his fucking mouth until he got a picture of Yuri holding Pavel. At the time, Yuri resented the pressure. He was not like Viktor, who, in the wake of his retirement, latched onto the idea of starting a family as if it had been his life’s purpose all along.

But Yuri held Pavel anyway, and it was as awkward as he anticipated. His arms were too cumbersome, gangly as they were at that point in time. Even sitting in a chair, he thought he might drop Pavel if either of them moved at all. The fact that it was his first time ever holding a baby was not lost on anyone. They cooed over him, and smiled dumb, knowing smiles. Pavel yawned and squirmed. One of his arms slipped free of the swaddling blanket, flailing about as he fussed quietly.

Otabek laughed — a low chuckle that always managed to fill Yuri’s chest with warmth. He made fun of the clumsy way Yuri sat, and the awkward hold he had on the baby. He snorted at the alarm on Yuri’s face every time Pavel shifted. _“Don’t drop him,”_ he said, trying to psych Yuri out. He teased Yuri relentlessly while Viktor took pictures, told him he looked ridiculous holding a baby in his ripped jeans and tacky leopard print. _“You’ll never be anyone’s mom.”_

Yuri would have agreed if he wasn’t so busy glaring at Otabek. Unfortunately, he didn’t look threatening with his loose hair hanging in his face, and he was too afraid to move either of his arms long enough to push it away. When Otabek drew closer to tuck it behind Yuri’s ears, Yuri had every intention of swearing at him and kicking Otabek’s leg. He had several rude names right at the tip of his tongue.

But something about Otabek’s laughter touched Yuri in a way it never had before, and he couldn’t do it. All he could focus on was how dark Otabek’s eyes were, how warm Otabek looked when he was amused, and his instant denial turned into, _“Maybe I could be. If it’s with him.”_

“You’re an asshole,” Yuri complains at present, but it’s half-hearted at best. “I’m not going to drop her.”

When he looks into Otabek’s eyes through the computer, Yuri thinks of Pavel — four years old and so proud of himself every time he goes out onto the ice. He thinks of Pavel’s big smiles, his dramatic tantrums, and his fondness for his little sister Lidiya, with her sweet voice and her bright eyes, clapping from the sidelines as Pavel grows accustomed to the ice.

And he thinks of Karina at the hospital in her incubator — the tiny, helpless thing that she is — gripping onto Yuri’s finger whenever he strokes her palm.

“You never think about it, do you?” Yuri asks, though he already knows the answer.

“About what? Kids?”

“Mmm.”

Otabek snorts again. “I’ve thought about it enough to know I don’t want one.”

The disappointment is less crushing than it used to be. It’s the answer Yuri expects, knowing what he knows about his best friend. Still, Yuri turns away from the computer, shuffling around on his bed like he’s trying to find a more comfortable position. When he’s stretched out on his stomach with his arms pillowing his chin, Yuri tilts his laptop screen to a better angle.

Otabek has a dour frown on his face once Yuri looks at him again.

“What are you so moody for?” Otabek asks.

Yuri rolls his eyes. “I’m not moody.”

“That’s your moody pose.”

“Fuck off. I don’t have a moody pose,” Yuri grumbles.

“You have several,” Otabek counters. The line of his mouth straightens out to match the flat tone of his voice.

Yuri releases a gust of air forcefully enough to blow some of the hair out of his face. He drops his gaze to his keyboard so he doesn’t have to look Otabek in the eye. “I’m just thinking about what I want to do when I retire.”

“And what’s that?” Otabek says, in that slow, patient way that means he has his own suspicions, but wants to give Yuri the chance to say it on his own.

With a shrug, Yuri continues, “I don’t know. Choreograph, probably. I’m better at that than coaching.”

“That’s not a bad idea.”

“I know, it’s just…” Yuri trails off for a moment, shoving a hand into his hair to scratch at his scalp in frustration. “Everyone else already has it all figured out, you know? They’re moving on. Georgi’s coaching. Chris is coaching. Viktor and Katsudon are coaching. Mila’s fucked off to Italy with Sara. You’ve got your music...”

Hesitantly, Yuri flicks his gaze up to check Otabek’s expression, but the neutral look on his face does nothing to temper his aloofness, so Yuri lowers his eyes again and picks at one ratty cuff of his old hoodie. 

For a long time, the future was a topic Yuri prefered to put off for as long as possible. He didn’t like to think of it as a teenager, when he was desperate for recognition and had no time to focus on anything that wasn’t the next competition. He didn’t like to think of it during the first couple of years of his adulthood either, when Georgi, Viktor, and Yuuri retired one after the other. That was when the uncertainty set in, and Yuri realized he had no clue what he wanted to do when his competitive days inevitably came to an end.

Then Pavel came along, and his relationship with Otabek changed, and the future suddenly didn’t seem so daunting when Yuri imagined a surly little boy with Otabek’s dark hair and eyes.

But even in the midst of his fantasies, he knew how unlikely they were.

Because he knows Otabek.

He knows all of Otabek’s habits — how he doesn’t like to wear slippers even though most of his socks have holes in them; how he doesn’t give a damn about the way he looks but still spends time styling his hair in the mornings; how he used to sneak a cigarette or two when he was out with his friends, only to pretend he felt guilty about it after, but he never really was, because he’s smoked in earnest since retiring; how he loves riding his motorcycle but hates driving a car; how he falls asleep midway through every movie they watch together unless they see it in a theater; how he drums on random surfaces with his thumbs when he’s restless, whether it’s a bench or a table, or the boards around the rink; how he won’t dance unless he has a few drinks in him first; how he grumbles about shitty weather but secretly enjoys walking through the rain.

Yuri knows how Otabek kisses, and how Otabek fucks — hard and aggressive, and lacking in sentiment. He knows how Otabek enjoys conversation but hates flirting; if Otabek ever finds himself in a romantic situation, it’s more by accident than by design. Yuri knows when Otabek wants someone, how dark and intense his eyes get, because Yuri’s had those eyes on him, and he’s seen those eyes directed at other people. He knows that Otabek likes his lovers pale, willowy, and wild; that he prefers them to be direct about their desires, because coy behavior fails to hold his attention for long.

Most of all, Yuri knows what their relationship is, what it was, and what it has never been. Dating wasn’t an option for them — they agreed on that years ago, though Otabek did most of the talking, unenthusiastic as he was about the prospect of a long-distance relationship. Yuri, whether he shared the opinion or not, understood the hesitation. They were both dedicated to their careers first and foremost. They traveled too much, and saw one another too infrequently. Exclusivity, Otabek said, would be impractical.

In spite of that, there was a part of Yuri, a part he thinks came into being the very day they met, that assumed their relationship would evolve one day. For a while, it seemed like fate — their careers would end, they’d put their wild youths behind them, and they’d settle down like Viktor and Yuuri. It made sense. In a perfect world, they would have been good together. They were so compatible in those early days. Secretly, Yuri carried that fantasy in the back of his mind since the first time he held Pavel, when he looked into Otabek’s eyes with his heart nearly beating straight out of his chest and thought, _“I could be happy with him.”_

But he _knows_ Otabek.

Otabek doesn’t want any of that.

Presently, Otabek says, “You’ve still got a few years left in you.”

“Yeah,” Yuri agrees, “but maybe I don’t want to spend every one of those years skating. Maybe I’m ready for all the shit that comes after.”

“And what comes after?” Otabek prods him along.

Yuri continues to stare at his keyboard and rants, “Half of our friends have retired. Viktor and Katsudon. Georgie. Chris. Mila and Sara. Mickey. Phichit. Seung-gil. _You_. Which, okay, I get it. It’s cool. Be a DJ full time. You’re fucking awesome. Live your dreams and all that shit. But then Guang Hong gets knocked up. _Mila_ gets knocked up. They’re probably not going to make a comeback. Leo, Emil, and Ken will retire in the next couple of years. And JJ—”

His heart lurches and his stomach drops. The butterflies that used swarm in his gut finally died out weeks ago, leaving nothing but dread in their place. Yuri still swallows through the clog in his throat, mortified by the manner in which his voice cracked over JJ’s name. Anxiously, he glances up at Otabek, terrified that he might have noticed, but Otabek looks no different than he has for most of the conversation.

“The point is,” Yuri begins again, carefully this time, “everyone is married now. Or they’re engaged. Or dating. Except Chris, but is it really a big fucking surprise to anyone that he’s getting divorced already? Whatever. You know what I mean. Everyone’s settling down. They have new careers or kids or both, and I’m still here doing the same shit I’ve always done, except I’m so fucking _tired of it_.”

“You shouldn't feel pressured to follow their example,” Otabek tells him, like he thinks that’s what Yuri needs to hear.

“I _don’t_ ,” Yuri snaps.

That’s not it.

There hasn’t been any pressure. At least, not the way Otabek assumes. No one has guilted Yuri into considering the future. He hasn’t been burdened by expectation. Sure, there’s a sense of urgency, one that grows quite strong at times, but he wouldn’t say it’s been thrust upon him by anyone else.

Of course he’s gotten the teasing remarks from people, and he’s resented them all for it. It doesn’t matter if the comments come from friends, family, or strangers he meets here, there, and everywhere — they’re always unwelcome. Even in this day and age, there seems to be the expectation that, _because_ he is an omega, he will one day want to marry and have children. If not now, then later. _“When you’re older,”_ they say. _“When you’re done competing,”_ or, _“When you’ve found_ The One _.”_

Yuri ignores them, and when he _can’t_ ignore them, he tells them exactly where they can fuck off to. Other people might experience things differently, but Yuri has been considering the subject long enough now that he knows any desire he has for moving on to another stage in his life has very little to do with the fact that he is an omega. In fact, he’d argue that has nothing to do with it at all.

And if what they say is true to some extent — if he’s been changed in some way by time and maturity, or by watching his friends retire, or by muddling through the only two relationships he’s ever had — none of that is a result of him being an omega.

It’s a result of growing up, of learning who he is and what he wants based on all of the experiences he’s had in life.

It wasn’t anything that could be predicted. Not by him, and certainly not by anyone else. The outcome was never set in stone. A different set of circumstances could have led him to a vastly different answer.

Some of it remains unappealing. Opinionated though he is, marriage is a subject Yuri could go either way on. If it happens, it happens; if it doesn’t, it doesn’t. There are more satisfying things in life than a ceremony and a fancy party. He’s already been part of enough wedding planning to last him a lifetime. It’s a waste of time and effort, not to mention a waste of money, all to impress a bunch of people who probably won’t matter later in life. Even with Otabek, marriage was never an outcome Yuri aspired to. It wasn’t necessary, and the thought of it now has been tarnished by his involvement in an affair.

But a baby…

That’s different, somehow. The thought of never having one, when he can imagine it so clearly, leaves Yuri’s chest aching in a way he doesn’t know how to explain.

It’s fucking stupid, and he hates it sometimes — how fierce the desire has become.

Yuri sighs again. He stares at Otabek, who has grown progressively more somber, like he, too, has come to realize they find themselves on very different paths, when once they traveled the same one together.

“Is it really so fucking bad for me to look at Karina and say, hey, I actually kind of want that?” Yuri asks.

“Of course not,” Otabek says. “I just think you should take the time to consider whether or not you want it for the right reasons.”

“And what _are_ the right reasons?”

“Because you like kids and you want a family. Not because everyone else is doing it.”

“I _don’t_ want it because everyone else is doing it,” Yuri argues. “I want it because I like being with Pavel and Lidiya and Karina. Watching everyone else move on just makes me think about it more, because I know I could do it, too.”

Otabek falls silent, either frustrated by Yuri’s answer or at a loss for words. His eyes go dark with sadness as he studies Yuri, perhaps acknowledging their differences for the first time.

“You’re young,” he says. “You still have time to—”

Yuri cuts him off. “Don’t give me that bullshit about how I should focus on my career and wait until I’m older. I’ve _been_ focusing on my career, Beka. This has been my life since I was a child.”

If he’d chosen a different life, maybe his youth would be more of a deterrent. Maybe he would feel compelled to consider his age, and ultimately think himself too young for it. Other people his age are completing university and working regular full-time jobs. They’re at the start of their careers instead of nearing the end of one. Without skating, Yuri wouldn’t be well established. He wouldn’t have the means to support himself, or Deda, or anyone else who might come into the picture.

Growing up the way he has places Yuri at a different stage in his life. The experiences his peers are only now acquiring were a part of his story long ago. He’s been supporting himself and Deda since he was a novice skater. Talent brought him government funding, and success brought him sponsorships and endorsement deals, which brought him stability. He grew up fast because he had no other choice, because he had obligations and responsibilities he had to meet if he wanted to keep competing — if he wanted to _survive_. The thought of taking things slow now, simply because other people think he should, frustrates the part of Yuri that’s already come to a decision.

He _will_ have a baby, sooner rather than later, whether or not he has a relationship to facilitate one. There are other options out there, options that might bring him less stress in the end.

But how should he explain himself? What can he say to convince Otabek that he’s thought this through? Yuri has never had a way with words. He knows what he wants when he wants it, but the hows and the whys tend to elude him, which doesn’t lend itself to convincing arguments. Maybe if he stares long enough, Otabek can read something in his eyes and Yuri won’t have to struggle to articulate it. Maybe he can _will_ Otabek to understand.

So Yuri stares at him through the screen — at his dark, solemn eyes and the scowling frown on his face. There’s tension between them even across the distance, but it’s not what it used to be. Desire died out as soon as it became clear to Yuri that the way they felt for one another was different, that what they _wanted_ from one another was different. If there’s friction now, it has less to do with attraction, and more to do with their attempts to figure out how their friendship should work in the absence of a physical relationship.

Eventually, Otabek takes a deep breath like he’s gearing up to respond, but something interrupts him right when his lips part around a quiet, “Yura…”

There’s a muffled sound on Otabek’s end, barely discernible through the speakers. Otabek’s expression drops from a grumpy sort of helplessness to a more hesitant and guarded look. His eyes flick off to the side, in the direction of his bedroom door. It takes Otabek’s cautious answer of “Yeah?” for Yuri to realize someone must have knocked on it.

Another voice pipes up in the background, speaking to Otabek in English instead of Russian or Kazakh. “Are we still going out?”

Otabek spares a quick glance back at Yuri — not nervous, but wary. “Yeah, give me a few more minutes.”

“Sorry,” the other voice says. “I didn’t know you were still talking to someone.”

The second person is a woman, but identifying her by voice alone is impossible, even if the tone and the accent are familiar. Yuri should know her; he’s sure he’s heard that voice before. Not recently, but certainly within the last few years. Something about it irritates him to the point of suspicion. It fires up his defenses, puts him on his guard and readies him for a fight. He can almost imagine what her laughter must sound like.

“Who’s that?” he asks in Russian.

No sooner are the words out of his mouth than the answer comes to him on its own. Memories shift around in his head until the pieces fall into place. For a split second, Yuri has to wonder how he could have forgotten. He remembers dark hair and red lipstick and matching rings, one of which his fingers have traced, and nearly removed.

Behind Otabek, Isabella Yang slips into view.

“Oh, it’s you,” she says — and just like that, Yuri’s thrown back into the torment and confusion that was his affair with JJ.

How long has it been since he last saw JJ’s wife? Two years, wasn’t it? Back when he first began to acknowledge that JJ was someone more than a rival and a friend. Yuri had plenty of those; JJ never quite fit the mold, no matter how much Yuri tried to shove him into it.

Isabella despised him by then. Yuri made sure of it, though it meant the 2020 Grand Prix Final in Beijing turned into an epic shitshow. He already loathed her before that — her voice, her face, her simpering behavior, that smug smirk she wore when she mocked him, frequently curling into JJ’s side like a self-important fangirl, thriving on the attention she received through her famous husband, always standing there with a proprietary hand on JJ’s chest to stake a claim she never actually had to fight for.

She looks different, Yuri notes, with her dark hair styled in a long pixie cut. The bold red lipstick is gone too, replaced by a more subtle pink, and her once impeccably manicured nails have become ragged a chipped. Even her face has changed — a little fuller these days, which could be an illusion created by the shorter hairstyle, or evidence that she’s carrying a bit of extra weight these days.

That would make sense. She was pregnant not so long ago.

Isabella leans over Otabek’s shoulder as she peers at the computer screen, slipping her arms around Otabek’s neck from behind. Someone less combative might have done so to steady themselves, but Isabella has always known which buttons to push to set Yuri off. As soon as she sniffed out Yuri’s attraction to Otabek, she began directing some of her proprietary behavior toward his best friend, simply for the joy of pissing Yuri off.

He may not have feelings for Otabek anymore, but aggravation still bubbles hot in Yuri’s gut. She must see it on his face, because a shadow of her old smirk twitches onto her lips.

Yuri glares at Otabek and seethes, “What the fuck is she doing there?”

Otabek’s expression goes flat again, far from thrilled to be caught in the middle like this, though Yuri notes he doesn’t shrug Isabella off of him.

“She’s staying for a while,” Otabek answers, speaking in English now instead of Russian.

The quirk of Isabella’s mouth turns snide. “Is that a problem?”

She’d probably like nothing better than to rile Yuri up. That’s what she’s always wanted, even now that they’re all adults and the petty confrontations have grown tiresome.

It was little more than juvenile teasing back when it began, years ago when Yuri was young and new to the senior division, and even more temperamental than he is now. Isabella taunted the Yuri’s Angels at competitions. She taunted Yuri whenever their paths crossed — smiled and looked down her nose at him while she nestled against her boyfriend turned fiancé turned husband, where she put on an innocent act no one believed. In the initial days of it, one could have made the argument that she did it in good fun. She wasn’t callous back then, merely amused by Yuri’s attitude.

That changed at some point. Yuri can’t recall when, nor is he entirely sure why, though he has his suspicions. Whatever the case, he blames Isabella for all of it. The childish pestering began because of her, and it gave way to outright contempt because she kept pushing him long after it stopped humoring anyone. Every last one of Yuri’s other feuds puttered out into nothing when age and experience mellowed him out, but the conflict with Isabella raged on. Her sarcastic jokes became heated insults, and Yuri’s petulant defensiveness became vicious hostility.

He despised her for mocking him and treating him like a child, and she despised him for some perceived slight Yuri can only guess at — and because, before their paths stopped crossing, he took the time to learn her weaknesses, and he felt no remorse when it came to exploiting them.

Their confrontations grew explosive. They provoked one another. They insulted one another. They screamed at one another across hotel lobbies, in the middle of clubs and formal events. In every conversation, they took opposing views out of spite, whether or not they actually supported them. That they often had an audience didn’t matter. On more than one occasion, Yuri would have gone for blood, but Isabella wasn’t worth being fined or suspended, or worse.

She drapes herself against Otabek like she’s always done with JJ, only she doesn’t bother feigning innocence this time. She loops her arms around him more securely, grinning close to his face. Otabek’s frown darkens, but he _still_ doesn’t discourage her.

Yuri swallows down his usual objections. Isabella might have proximity to her advantage, but Yuri already has the upper hand.

He puts a smirk on his face. In as sweet a voice as he can manage, he says, “Is your husband there, too? I haven’t seen him since the Cup of China a few weeks ago. I’m surprised you weren’t with him.”

 _Bitch_ , he thinks. _I’ve slept with your husband._

Isabella falters. For a fleeting moment, something like hurt flashes in her eyes, but it quickly fades and her glower turns menacing.

“Yura…” Otabek says, in a voice gone ominously low.

Yuri snorts and says, “Fuck off. She can take care of herself. She doesn’t need you to defend her.”

Whatever Otabek means to say in response gets cut off. Isabella talks over him, snapping, “He’s not my husband anymore.”

As silence descends over the three of them, Yuri goes very still.

Something stops. Time, or his heart. It could be both. Maybe his lungs stop, too, because he suddenly can’t breathe, drowning beneath the flood of memories. It’s as if a dam has broken, and his brain no longer has the mental fortitude required to keep everything tucked back into the shadowed recesses he used to box away every thought, every emotion, and every sensation he experienced in JJ’s company.

He remembers tan skin, hot against his back, and black ink beneath his fingertips. He remembers the taste of wine and smoke on his tongue. He can see the night lights of Beijing as if he’s there among them again, can feel warm breath in his ear despite the fact that he’s very much alone. He remembers the scratch of stubble against his cheek, his neck, his chin, the feel of it beneath his lips and tongue. He can feel large, callused hands on his hips, gripping tight, pulling him back into every thrust. He remembers the swell of a growing knot dragged out of his body, and the glint of a platinum wedding band, right there in the center of his vision, as he caught his breath in the aftermath, suppressing the disappointment that always lingered while every cell in his body hummed.

Two trips to Beijing, and one to Naples. Two gold medals, and a slow dance at Mila’s wedding. Several bottles of wine scattered over table tops, glasses empty, or half-full, or knocked onto the floor. Three nights spent tangled in hotel sheets while the world around them disappeared, and all their other concerns vanished from thought. Three morning afters, waking up each time to the same blue eyes.

Nine months spent wavering between satisfaction and dismay, acceptance and denial.

As the silence continues, Yuri struggles to contain his shock and confusion. His expression falters, mean smirk going slack as he processes the revelation. It takes little more than a few moments for him to grasp Isabella’s meaning. Then his eyes widen, and he looks between Otabek and Isabella for any sign that they might know.

“... what?” he asks, so quiet it’s barely more than a wisp of air.

There’s no way they know. If either of them suspected a thing, he would have heard about it before now. Otabek would have given him the “What were you _thinking_?” talk, right before Isabella took matters into her own hands and killed him.

Instead, Isabella sneers, “Not that it’s any of your fucking business.”

Hers isn’t the face of a wife betrayed. Contempt fills her voice, but no accusation. Her expression becomes marred with unease. One might think she hadn’t meant to disclose that information.

Yuri swallows through the alarm. He has to be certain, has to determine whether or not she was ever aware.

So he forces a nasty grin and taunts her, “What, he finally got tired of you? He always did like to flirt. Did he fuck someone else?”

 _Me,_ Yuri thinks. _He fucked_ me _._

“Yura…” Otabek admonishes him.

“Or did you cheat on him?” Yuri continues. “Is the baby not his? Did he toss you out on your ass when he found out?”

 _He picked me_.

“Yuri, _that’s enough_ ,” Otabek snaps at him.

The stoic set of his features goes tense and dark with anger. Otabek might frown a lot to begin with, but he generally isn’t the type for blatant outrage. That’s Yuri’s part to play, not his.

Yuri often envies Otabek’s composure — how adept he is at keeping his irritation to himself. He’s quiet and dignified in a way Yuri has never been able to emulate. People respect it more than they respect Yuri’s volatility. They take Otabek seriously. No one ever looks down on _him_. No ever ever treated _Otabek_ like a child at the start of his senior career.

Even so, he has fury in him somewhere. Yuri has seen it. It’s a rare thing, but it’s there. Otabek has the most unsettling glare Yuri has ever seen. There’s seldom much heat behind it, unlike Yuri, who spits fire when enraged. Otabek’s glare is dispassionate, like he’s lost all feeling. His eyes go dark and chilling, and all the warmth drains from his voice.

Seeing that look directed at someone else always fills Yuri with a sense of glee.

Seeing it directed at himself fills him with bitter resentment.

Who the fuck does Otabek think he is, barking at Yuri for his behavior when Isabella treats him no differently?

Yuri makes an effort to control himself. He can’t allow himself to appear visibly unnerved. Aggravation twists his stomach again, but he quells it for as long as he can, switching back to Russian to ask, “How long has she been there?”

Wordlessly, Isabella slinks away. Her arms slip off of Otabek’s shoulders. She steps aside like she means to leave, lingering in the background, glaring spitefully from the edge of the screen.

She wouldn’t do that if she knew. She’d be spitting threats and insults until she was blue in the face.

Somehow, her continued ignorance fails to bring Yuri any comfort.

Otabek sighs heavily and responds, “A few days.”

“Why didn’t you tell me?” Yuri demands.

“You’ve been busy.”

It would be a weak excuse from anyone else. From Otabek, it could actually be legitimate. Proper communication has never been their strong suit. Otabek in particular has a habit of making decisions and acting on them without bothering to discuss it beforehand. By doing so, he seems to think he’s saving other people an unnecessary amount of trouble.

Yuri thinks it’s a mark of arrogance.

“And, what? You couldn’t text me? _By the way, Yura_ ,” he sneers, lowering his voice into a shitty imitation of Otabek’s, “ _that bitch you hate is staying with me after she divorces her husband._ ”

“What happened between Bella and JJ isn’t my business to tell,” Otabek says.

So something happened, and Otabek knows about it, and it has nothing to do with Yuri?

“You could have told me she’d be staying,” Yuri argues.

“And what would that accomplish? You would have been pissed off about it and dug around for dirt like you always do. You have Karina to worry about and the Grand Prix Final coming up next week. I didn’t want to distract you with this.”

“So you weren’t going to tell me at all.”

Yuri doesn’t bother to phrase it as a question. There isn’t a doubt in his mind that Otabek meant for this visit to come and go without comment.

If Isabella had been anyone else — one of Otabek’s relatives, or another friend, or even someone Yuri has never met — the secrecy wouldn’t have mattered. It’s Otabek’s business who he has over. Even when they were having sex, Yuri’s opinion mattered only as far as Otabek wanted it to. They share plenty of themselves with one another, but they don’t always discuss who they allow into their lives. They don’t have to. Neither their sexual relationship nor their friendship included that stipulation. It’s never been an issue before. At the end of the day, they’re friends first and former lovers second.

But this is different, because _Isabella_ is different. She isn’t family, and she’s certainly not _Yuri’s_ friend. She’s not a flirty fan of the Hero of Kazakhstan, nor is she some pretty party-goer Otabek met at the club. Isabella is a far more significant presence. She isn’t a nothing or a noone, or an innocent someone Otabek can spend his time with and avoid tension or drama. She’s the wife of Otabek’s friend and former rinkmate. She’s the wife of the man who was once Yuri’s fiercest rival, before injury took that away from them, and an undefined something led them to bed.

This situation is far from ordinary. Yuri strives to adapt to it, but finds himself incapable of doing so. With everything else going on in his life, he’s out of sorts enough as it is that throwing Isabella into the mix threatens to lay waste to all of his efforts to move on.

Otabek’s voice goes slow and deep with impatience when he answers, “I don’t know.”

“Why the fuck doesn’t she stay with someone else? Yuri asks, pushing himself up onto his elbows so he can lean toward the computer, like he means to climb through it and get into Otabek’s face.

“Because she and I are friends,” Otabek reminds him.

“You and JJ are friends,” Yuri counters. He almost stammers over JJ’s name again. Before tonight, the last time he said that name out loud was on a moan. “Is this you picking sides?”

If Yuri’s secret comes out, and Otabek sides with Isabella instead of him…

“There isn’t a side to pick.”

“Does JJ know she’s there?”

“Of course he does,” Otabek replies. “Bella wanted to get away. I offered her the spare room.”

“Get away from _what_?” Yuri sneers. “Her marriage? Her own baby?”

There’s no question in his mind on that. The baby hasn’t been mentioned by either of them. Isabella didn’t bring her, so she has to be with JJ.

What does that mean? Does JJ get custody?

Otabek sighs loudly. “I’m not going to discuss this with you if all you’re going to do is instigate.”

Yuri flounders for something to say — something that isn’t rash or spiteful, or the product of his own misgivings. It’s uncommon for him to argue with Otabek. They bicker about stupid things sometimes, the way all friends do. They’ve had many similar interests over the years, but they’re also different people from different walks of life who had very different experiences growing up. They’re bound to disagree on occasion. Normally, whenever a conflict happens to rise between them, it doesn’t last long. Things don’t grow so tense and uncomfortable that they can’t be repaired. Their squabbles never leave Yuri feeling as if something might change irreversibly if he’s not careful.

But this disagreement is unsettling in a way few others have been. Something hot and unpleasant bubbles up in Yuri’s chest — a sudden, burning sense of jealousy that takes him by surprise.

Isabella has had _everything_. She had JJ, she had a baby, and now she has Otabek.

Yuri can accept that Otabek is friends with her. He’s always hated it, but he never let it come between them. The antagonism with Isabella is Yuri’s battle to fight, not Otabek’s. He doesn’t _need_ Otabek to back him up or defend him.

But there’s a part of him that wishes Otabek would — the part of Yuri still wallowing in the disappointment created from shattered dreams. If not for that, perhaps he could have handled this situation with maturity instead of vindictiveness.

Over and over again, Yuri has come away defeated from his encounters with Isabella. Even now, when he has the upper hand, he hasn’t won anything, because she’s there with Otabek and JJ has never said a word about the state of his marriage, and spilling all their secrets now would only make Yuri the villain.

Or perhaps he already is one. Perhaps that’s what he’s always been. He certainly doesn’t feel guilty if, by chance, his affair with JJ had anything to do with the end of Isabella’s marriage.

_He picked me._

Yuri was fine with his role as the wicked lover before, but in the wake of all this, everything about it seems so unfair.

In the end, Yuri responds the way he always does when he’s cornered and at a loss. He lashes out with hatefulness.

“Are you fucking her?” he asks.

Because it’s easier to blame Isabella than it is to reexamine his relationship with JJ. Because it’s somewhat heartening to spew the accusation and drag Otabek down to his level. Because he _knows_ Otabek would have slept with her once, long ago when Isabella wasn’t off limits, before Yuri had any part to play in their lives at all.

The rational part of his brain acknowledges that his question is bullshit. The answer is “no.” He doesn’t need to see the fury in Otabek’s eyes to be sure of that.

Otabek isn’t spiteful like Yuri. He doesn’t cave to bitterness like Yuri. He wouldn’t sabotage a friendship by fucking his friend’s wife, even if their marriage is over.

Yuri flinches back when Otabek’s glare narrows dangerously.

“We’re done now,” Otabek says. “Call me when you drop the petty bullshit.”

“Fuck off,” Yuri snaps.

It doesn’t matter anymore anyway. Otabek’s intentions or his reasons for keeping Isabella’s visit a secret pale in comparison to the secrets Yuri holds. Nothing either of them have to say to one another will change the outcome for the better, not when Yuri’s temper remains out of control and Otabek has to take up the defensive. If anything, continuing the conversation will only make things worse.

Before Otabek can bite out a short “goodbye” or “good luck,” or whatever other farewell he might feel the need to impart, Yuri slams his laptop shut.

Head pillowed on his arms, Yuri sinks his fingers into his hair and releases a low, wordless shriek of frustration into the mattress. When that accomplishes nothing, he hoists himself up and searches the bed for his phone. He yanks it from the tangle of blankets, turns on the screen and pulls up JJ’s contact, only to stare at it for several long, silent moments, just as the butterflies make an abrupt return. They mingle with fear this time, churning around in Yuri’s stomach to send the tickle of nausea up his throat.

He still has JJ blocked — on his phone, and on every social media account he has to his name. He makes Lilia manage his email, just in case JJ tries to contact him that way; if he has, Lilia hasn’t mentioned it. Nearly an entire month has passed since Yuri exchanged a single word of communication with JJ, and it’s been… not easy, but manageable. Recently, he’s begun to think of his departure from Beijing as a success. He accomplished what he meant to. Life went back to normal.

But JJ has left his wife, or _she_ ’s left _him_ , and Yuri’s thoughts quickly spiral out of control.

 _He picked me_.

 _He_ picked _me._

 _He picked_ me _._

No matter how Yuri stresses the thought, he experiences no happiness.

It probably isn’t true anyway. This can’t be about Beijing. He would have known already if it was. JJ was upset when Yuri left, but he’s also stubborn and impulsive; he would have found some way to communicate with Yuri. Isabella has been in Almaty for days, and _no one_ , not Otabek or JJ, has said a word to Yuri about it. It can’t have anything to do with him. It _shouldn’t_ have anything to do with him. Beijing was never supposed to mean anything — not the first time _or_ the last. It was wine, spite, adrenalin, and relief all wrapped up into a few nights scattered over the year. Nights Yuri was content never to speak of with anyone.

None of it was ever supposed to become _this_.

Yuri drops his phone and shoves it off of the bed. If it remains out of reach, he won’t give into the temptation to call JJ and demand an explanation.

Instead, Yuri flops onto his back and scrubs his hands down his face. He presses the heels of his palms against his temples and squeezes tight, like he can somehow force his brain to stop unraveling, wring out enough negativity and panic to calm himself down instead of blowing up.

It doesn’t work, because Yuri has nothing to focus on but the silence of his apartment, and the familiar ache deep in his chest that won’t subside.

* * *

[A picture of four-year-old Pavel, a boy with shaggy dark hair and blue eyes. He sits on a bench at the ice rink, bundled up in warm clothing, with a helmet set beside him. Yuri kneels at Pavel’s feet, dressed in his practice clothes while tying Pavel’s skates.]

 **37,094 likes**  

 **yuri_plisetsky** A star in the making #stopgrowing #babypopo1 #teamrussia #futuregoldmedalist

 **mila-babicheva** He looks impatient  
**yuri_plisetsky** @mila-babicheva He was. He said I’m too slow.  
**mila-babicheva** @yuri_plisetsky Rude little brat  
**yuri_plisetsky** @mila-babicheva He has his priorities that’s all  
**+guanghongji+** Awwwwwwwwwwww! Coach Yura and his star pupil!  
**yuri_plisetsky** @+guanghonji+ He takes practice more seriously than you do  
**+guanghongji+** @yuri_plisetsky He’s going to out-quad me one day  
**yuri_plisetsky** @+guanghongji+ That’s not hard to do  
**+guanghongji+** @yuri_plisetsky Ouch you slut  
**yuri_plisetsky** @+guanghongji+ :P  
**+guanghongji+** @yuri_plisetsky No Luna for you on Monday  
**yuri_plisetsky** @+guanghongji+ You wouldn’t dare keep her from me  
**+guanghongji+** @yuri_plisetsky Bitch watch me

DECEMBER 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Comments and kudos are always appreciated! Y'all were so generous with both throughout the old fic! I can only hope this version earns some love, too!


	2. Sometimes Love Just Ain't Enough

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which JJ shows up in Colorado Springs and Yuri makes things difficult for himself by refusing to talk.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **Changes to chapter 2 include:** Very minor edits to the blog post; one new and two expanded social media posts; additional content added to the first scene, which was the last scene in chapter 1 of Baby Feet 1.0; the inclusion of JJ’s one bad vice, which I meant to get around to in BF1.0, but I kept holding onto it for later (you can blame Otabek for being a bad influence); and I edited some of the wording in the second and third scenes to account for plot changes, but otherwise they’re 100% the way they were in the previous version.
> 
> Also, in 1.0 JJ’s injury happened in Berlin, because at the time I was writing there was zero information about where the real 2020 Grand Prix Final would be held. Now it looks like it will occur in Beijing, which honestly works out even better for the purposes of this fic and I’m a dumb dumb for not thinking of it before. So that has been updated accordingly.
> 
>  **EDIT:** Sorry y'all something went wrong with the pictures for the text convos and they're not showing up on some devices. I'm taking them out and replacing them with straight text until I figure out wtf is going on.

"But there's a danger in loving somebody too much,  
And it's sad when you know it's your heart you can't trust.  
There's a reason why people don't stay where they are.  
Baby, sometimes love just ain't enough."  
  
\- ["Sometimes Love Just Ain't Enough" by Patty Smyth and Don Henley](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=qdzbjUWu2VU)

* * *

 

 

 

> **The Tiger’s Den**
> 
> Home        [About](https://i.imgur.com/ed7Svya.png)         Cats         Personal         Yurochka
> 
>  
> 
> **FUCK MY LIFE**
> 
> POSTED ON 4 DECEMBER 2022
> 
>  
> 
> I have the worst friends.
> 
> Except I don’t. Which is why they’re the worst. That makes sense, doesn’t it? I don’t know. They’re like my family: they annoy the shit out of me, but for some reason I like being around them. I guess that’s what happens when an asshole hangs around with nice people.
> 
> How do you tell your nice friends that you’re an awful person who doesn’t deserve to be friends with them?
> 
> Why are they so nice in the first place? Why can’t they be douchebags like the rest of the world? Why do they think I’m fun to hang out with? Why do they care so much? What did I even do to make them like me?
> 
> Fuck, I don’t know. I’m not sweet. I’m not cute. I’m not particularly considerate. I’m not funny. (Jk, I’m hilarious.) (Jk jk, I’m not.) I’m not smart. I’m literally only good at maybe two things. Or three? I feel like cooking doesn’t count, though, since that’s more of a survival thing. I’m not easygoing. I’m not adventurous (anymore). I’m not the person you want to ask for advice. (Clearly. I’ve fucked a married man and posted about it online. I’m dumb as fuck. My life is a shitshow right now.)
> 
> I’m mean and cranky and selfish. I make stupid mistakes because I don’t bother to think things through half the time. If “hot mess” is in the dictionary, my picture is right next to it. There’s a very good chance I’m going to end up dragging a bunch of people into this shitstorm with me. I have no idea how I haven’t fucked up badly enough yet that everyone decides I’m not worth the effort.
> 
> Do I even have any redeeming qualities? I guess I have a good work ethic. It’s good to be disciplined, isn’t it? Maybe I’m loyal. Or it could just be that I’m stubborn as fuck. Those are two different things, right? One of my friends told me they like that I’m honest. But I’m really not honest at all. I’m periodically blunt. Sometimes I don’t care what people think when I say things. Other times I care too much and I clam up. And then there are the times I just don’t think at all. It really depends on the subject. The more likely it is to be embarrassing, the less likely I am to comment. Especially about _feelings_.
> 
> Fuck, feelings are awful. Why do I have to have feelings? Why do they have to make everything so fucking difficult? Life would be easier if I could ignore them. I wouldn’t have to constantly resist the urge to scream. Or pull my hair out. Or bash my head against the fucking wall.
> 
> WHAT IF I HIT MY HEAD SO HARD I GET BRAIN DAMAGE AND SUDDENLY DON’T HAVE FEELINGS ANYMORE???? WOULDN’T THAT BE GREAT????????
> 
> Brb while I conduct this experiment.
> 
>  
> 
> TAGGED: Personal, Friends

* * *

[A picture of Yuri sitting on the couch in Leo and Guang Hong’s apartment, looking very comfortable with baby Luna in his arms. Beside him, Leo stares into the camera with a humorous “the audacity of this guy” sort of look on his face.]

 **+guanghongji+** Look who’s here early to steal my baby #babythief #mamayura

**19,451 likes**

**yuri_plisetsky** You’re a whore  
**+guanghongji+** @yuri_plisetsky I made this baby for you and this is how you treat me?  
**yuri_plisetsky** @+guanghongji+ You didn’t make her for me you made her because you were drunk at the Olympics and you don’t know how to use birth control  
**mila-babicheva** @yuri_plisetsky @+guanghongji+ Yeah the Olympics were pretty wild this year weren’t they? :|  
**+guanghongji+** @yuri_plisetsky @mila-babicheva I feel like you know something you’re not telling anyone  
**mila-babicheva** @yuri_plisetsky @+guanghongji+ Think about things really hard for a while and it’ll all start making sense  
**yuri_plisetsky** @+guanghongji+ @mila-babicheva SHUT UP  
**katsuki-y** Did he start making grabby hands as soon as he got through the door?  
**+guanghongji+** @katsuki-y Yeah I’m honestly embarrassed for him  
**v-nikiforov** @katsuki-y @+guanghongji+ What happened to our ferocious ice tiger?  
**yuri_plisetsky** @katsuki-y @+guanghongji+ @v-nikiforov You’re all dumb bitches  
**phichit+chu** Is Leo going to have to fight to get Luna back?  
**+guanghongji+** @phichit+chu He’s secretly happy for the break  
**leo_de_la_iglesia** @phichit+chu @+guanghongji+ It’s really too bad our most trusted babysitter lives all the way in Russia  
**yuri_plisetsky** @phichit+chu @+guanghongji+ @leo_de_la_iglesia I could have been convinced to be your live-in nanny  
**yuri_plisetsky** @phichit+chu @+guanghongji+ @leo_de_la_iglesia But you can’t afford me and also neither of you can cook worth a damn  
**+guanghongji+** @phichit+chu @leo_de_la_iglesia @yuri_plisetsky You’re a vicious slut and I regret letting you hold my Luna

DECEMBER 5

* * *

If Yuri was expecting to have an easy time of it in Colorado Springs, those assumptions are dashed before his first official practice session comes to an end. One moment, he’s standing innocently at the boards with his back to his coaches, chugging water with more spirit than necessary in order to stop himself from grinding his teeth or snapping in frustration while Yakov and Lilia nitpick his short program half to death. The next moment, he’s tensing with shock, having just caught a whiff of an achingly familiar scent, one that most certainly should _not_ be there. He has mere seconds to process the meaning of its presence behind him before the many critiques levied against him by his coaches suddenly become the least of his concerns.

A hand wraps around Yuri’s messy ponytail and gives it a soft tug — because of _course_ JJ can’t be a normal person and find some other way to communicate with him, like making fake social media accounts and spamming his DMs, or whining to their friends until they get so fed up with him they stage an intervention and force Yuri to talk to him again. No, he has to come all the way to Colorado Springs during one of the most important competitions of the season, waltz into the rink during practice when he shouldn’t even have the proper credentials, and yank at Yuri’s ponytail like a child misbehaving on the playground.

Yuri sputters and whirls around to glare death upon JJ, who has to be either the bravest or the stupidest man on the face of the Earth. Unfortunately, the fact that Yuri finds himself coughing and choking on water minimizes the danger he meant to convey. JJ meets the otherwise murderous look on Yuri’s face with a devilish smile and a carefree wave of his offending hand.

“What the _fuck_ ,” Yuri wheezes.

JJ has the gall to affect innocence, silver-blue eyes going wide and disarming. “You’ve been avoiding me.”

“So you just—”  Yuri, conscious of their audience and wary of revealing too much, cuts himself off and throws his hands up in disbelief, finishing his mini tirade with a wordless shriek. 

Lilia clicks her tongue in disapproval and Yakov grounds out a heated “ _Leroy_!” through his teeth. How JJ even managed to insert himself between them without attracting attention, Yuri will never know. 

JJ’s sudden appearance there does not go unnoticed for long. Other coaches gaze over in confusion, frowning at the commotion, and two of the other five competitors catch sight of JJ as they skate by. Emil actually shouts an excited greeting — “Hey, JJ!” — and starts to make his way over like he thinks the middle of practice is the perfect time to catch up. There’s probably a camera zooming in on JJ from somewhere, starting a million rumors in a matter of seconds.

Yakov shuffles forward like he intends to chase JJ off, but Yuri steps off of the ice to put himself between them, tossing his water bottle at Yakov with a hissed “I’ll be right back,” before snapping his skate guards into place and dragging JJ away by the arm.

“I missed you, too, Sweetpea,” JJ jokes, following along without resistance.

Yuri shoves him down a few hallways and into one of the locker rooms. Being one of the only two male omegas who qualified for the Grand Prix Final means he and JJ have the room to themselves, at least until the skater from South Korea decides he’s done with practice.

“ _Are you insane_?!” Yuri shouts, the deafening tone of his voice ricocheting off the tile walls. He releases JJ with a snarl, only to grow further enraged when JJ doesn’t even flinch.

“I don’t think so,” JJ says, feigning a serious demeanor, like he’s actually giving it some thought.

Yuri resists the urge to smack him. “What the _fuck_ do you think you’re doing here?! You can’t just barge into the rink and pull me away from practice!”

“You pulled _me_ away. I was just saying hi.”

If JJ was hurt by Yuri’s heated words during his hasty departure from Beijing, he’s gotten over it in the month since. Even without a large smile on his face, JJ’s eyes twinkle with amusement. He gazes upon Yuri with poorly concealed fondness, facing Yuri’s temper with the same ease and nonchalance he displayed the first time they stood on the podium together, with all the pride and arrogance Yuri has come to expect. Instead of allowing himself to get caught up in the negativity, JJ accepts Yuri’s anger and annoyance and lets it play out as long as Yuri needs it to. The dark glares and sharp words roll right off of him, no match for his renewed air of confidence.

Yuri clamps his mouth shut around a testy response, scowl still firmly in place as he glances over JJ’s form. Of all the smug assholes to become infatuated with, he had to pick this one.

JJ has his hands casually tucked into the pockets of a worn leather jacket. The red t-shirt beneath fits snug around his chest, with black jeans similarly tight around his thighs. His boots are broken in, but clean, like he makes an effort to take care of them despite their frequent use. The sunglasses perched on top of his head have to be purposeful at this point, considering how often Yuri has belittled the choice. A lanyard hangs around JJ’s neck with credentials attached, but closer examination of the identifying picture reveals them as belonging to JJ’s father. 

Whether they were borrowed or stolen, Yuri can’t be sure. He’s never quite known what to make of the Leroy patriarch; JJ’s cavalier handling of proper procedure could be unique to him, or it could be an inherited trait from one of his parents. Whatever the case, someone clearly hasn’t been doing their job keeping out unwanted visitors. Either that or the figure skating community at large has decided to allow JJ to do as he wishes. Perhaps they’ve all fallen victim to his charming smile. At this point, neither circumstance would come as much of a surprise.

After several silent moments pass them by in which Yuri and JJ do nothing more than stare at one another, waiting for the other to continue, JJ finally says, “I heard you saw Bella.”

That he can discuss the event with such calm, without so much as batting an eye, speaks to his acting skills. There’s no way he’s as unaffected by the split as he seems.

Fuming, Yuri folds his arms over his chest and sneers, “Did she bitch at you about it?”

“No,” JJ says, his resulting chuckle so low and quiet it’s difficult to say whether he’s bitter or unconcerned. Yuri doesn’t knows which he would prefer. “Bek warned me. He seemed to think you’d be giving me a call.” JJ pauses to eye Yuri meaningfully. When Yuri gives no indication that he ever even considered establishing contact, JJ continues, “Not gonna lie, I was kinda hoping you would.”

“Why would I do that?” Yuri asks, forcing disinterest.

JJ smiles and shrugs like it doesn’t make a difference to him, like they’re not both pretending, like Yuri can’t see in his eyes how much JJ wants to step forward, get into his space, touch him with greedy hands or pull him into a heated kiss. JJ’s eyes never leave Yuri’s face, but his desire crackles like sparks between them. Alone, JJ doesn’t bother with restraint.

“I don’t have anything to say to you,” Yuri insists at the same time his thoughts shift back to, _I want him._

JJ accepts the lie with a soft smile. “Okay,” he says, completely unruffled. “Can I still explain?”

Yuri scoffs in disbelief. “You came all the way here just to tell me why you left your wife?”

“That’s not really what happened, but yeah.” 

JJ takes a small, hesitant step closer; the heel of his boot scuffs softly along the floor. His hands fall from his pockets, inching across the space between them. It feels like the most natural thing in the world for Yuri to step between them, to let them settle along his waist, but he forces himself back before JJ can make contact. JJ comes to a stop immediately, letting his hands fall back to his sides. His easy smile remains, his scent more comforting than disappointed.

“You kind of blocked me everywhere,” JJ explains. “I tried emailing you, but the only message I got back was from your coach. She said you were busy making yourself miserable and that you’d stop running away when you were ready, but it’s been a month and I’ve been getting kind of anxious.”

Yuri winces and shuts his eyes against the unease rising through his chest, mumbling a curse under his breath. He can only imagine the things JJ wrote in that email. Lilia probably knows everything now, even if JJ didn’t provide explicit details. She’s much too smart not to put two and two together. Admittedly, it isn’t a difficult conclusion to come to.

On the verge of snapping again, Yuri takes a calming breath before looking back at JJ, who shows not a single trace of the anxiety he claimed to experience. Either he’s joking or he’s that good at concealing it, or he’s come to the conclusion that he has a chance to make things right and feels confident about his ability to do so. Yuri would love to correct that assumption, but finds his stubborn resistance growing progressively weaker the longer he stares JJ in the eye.

“I can’t concentrate with you here,” Yuri says.

JJ’s fond smile broadens with amusement. “I’m flattered.”

 _Damn him_ , Yuri thinks, and grumbles out loud, “I _will_ strangle you.”

JJ chuckles, but it ends quickly, and he softly says, “Let me explain. _Please_.”

The silver-blue of his eyes is vibrant in his earnestness. He could start whatever bullshit story he wanted right then and there, and Yuri would hang off of his every word. It almost doesn’t matter. What difference will it make? JJ’s marriage is over. Yuri can no longer use it as fuel for his denial.

“I have a competition to get through,” Yuri argues. His hands curl into loose fists, nervous fingers massaging into sweaty palms.

“Can we talk after?”

Yuri hesitates over an answer. That JJ is here at all is enough of an implication for Yuri’s brain to jump to its own conclusions. JJ wouldn’t have come all this way if their affair hadn’t meant something to him. If he didn’t want some version of what they had before, if he didn’t intend to pick up where they left off now that his wife is no longer in the picture, he would have let Yuri go when Yuri gave him the chance. Yet JJ stands there, inches away from pulling Yuri into his arms, making it damn near impossible for Yuri to pretend that their affair was only about meaningless sex.

They _can’t_ talk now. It’s the worst possible time at the worst possible place. Yuri came here to compete, and as much as the very thought of it exhausts him, he has a title to defend. He should be at practice, working himself to the bone while Yakov and Lilia pick apart his every move, not staring at JJ’s mouth, aching to kiss him, yearning to drag his palms over JJ’s stubble, tense with the memory of it reddening the soft skin of his inner thighs. JJ should be home in Montreal preparing for Nationals. He shouldn’t be here in this locker room, smelling as hopeful and content as he did the last time Yuri woke beside him.

There’s no time for this. No privacy. They could be interrupted at any moment. Already, the gossip must be churning, spreading from the rink to the hotel to the world at large, as coaches, skaters, officials, and fans mutter between one another, trying to determine on their own what JJ Leroy could possibly be doing in Colorado Springs. All it would take is one whispered rumor, or a single compromising photo, and their affair would be public knowledge before Yuri even has the chance to consider how he wants to proceed.

Part of Yuri doesn’t want to cave, not after he’s put so much effort into moving on. He wants to remain stubborn, wants to turn JJ away and prove to them both that he was right all along, that their relationship was a sham, or a monumental fuck up.

It’s drowned out by the part of him _dying_ to know the truth. Why is Bella in Almaty with Otabek? What drove her away? Where is the baby? How long has this tension been brewing between them?

“... _fine_ ,” Yuri says, voice rougher than he intended, but it nearly cracked around a clog in his throat and he has to disguise the nervous break somehow.

JJ’s mouth curves in delight. His scent spikes with excitement, bursting through his restraint enough for some of the relief that accompanies it to slip out. He steps forward again, crowding into Yuri’s space, hands reaching for his waist.

Yuri puts a hand to JJ’s chest to hold him back. “ _After_ ,” he sternly reminds him, but any self-discipline he may have had a moment ago fails him the second his palm settles over JJ’s heart.

JJ is warm skin and hard muscle and a potent alpha scent rich enough to drive anyone susceptible to it to the brink of insanity, big hands and strong shoulders and eyes so crystalline silver-blue they often resemble the ice that has become Yuri’s livelihood. Arousal hits Yuri like a bolt of lightning, igniting his blood as it courses through his veins, from the top of his head to the very tips of his toes, shivering down his spine to curl low between his legs, up his pelvis into his gut, where it burns hot and uncomfortable, laying waste to his restraint.

Before Yuri can so much as _think_ about what he’s doing, he drags JJ into a bruising kiss, crushing JJ’s mouth against his.

It lasts no more than a second or two, just long enough to taste JJ, to smell him fully, to take JJ’s face between his palms, before reality slams back into him and Yuri rips himself away, shoving JJ back until he’s no longer within arms reach. JJ displays his pleasure with a smug smile, one of those self-satisfied smirks Yuri used to ache to punch off of his face. Now that ache is different — a yearning so deep Yuri can feel it vibrating through his bones.

“You fucking idiot,” he sneers, unsure if he means JJ or himself.

He flees before JJ can say anything else, stalking out of the locker-room and finding his way back to practice, where Yakov lets him have it for disappearing, and Lilia stares with a mouth gone flat and eyes that gleam knowingly.

JJ doesn’t follow him, but he’s everywhere Yuri turns outside of practice. When Yuri returns to the hotel, JJ is there in the lobby, signing autographs and taking pictures with all his giggling fans. Later, when Yuri settles in for dinner with his coaches at the hotel restaurant, he spies JJ at another table, joking around and laughing with Emil and Mickey. In the morning, on his way to another practice session, Yuri comes across JJ in the elevator with his parents and sister. During each encounter, JJ glances his way and smirks when their eyes meet. In the lobby and the restaurant, he waves and shouts a greeting loud enough to ensure that other people notice the interaction. In the elevator, JJ even goes so far as to put a hand on him, digging his fingers into Yuri’s side for a tickle that has Yuri twisting away and spitting insults, until JJ’s sisters sighs heavily and says, “Oh my _God_ , will you stop flirting?”

Yuri can’t visit with Leo and Guang Hong, because JJ is there hogging the baby. He can’t gossip about Mila and Sara with Emil and Mickey, because JJ is busy catching up with them, monopolizing all of their time. He can’t concentrate on practice, because even when JJ isn’t around he’s still constantly in Yuri’s head, taking up space in his thoughts that would be better spent focused on his programs, which Yakov and Lilia continue to nitpick, like they did when he was fifteen and far more disobedient.

He makes the mistake of unblocking JJ, which JJ discovers after texting, _“Do you still have me blocked?”_ Yuri can blame the decision on his foolish impulses, just as he can blame a masochistic streak for the fact that he doesn’t immediately block JJ again as soon as JJ begins to take advantage of the newly open communication, bombarding him with messages at all hours of the day.

JJ Leroy is a headache in human form. He might not be able to compete in the Grand Prix Final this season, but that doesn’t seem to stifle his desire to annoy the shit out of Yuri. The worst part of it all is that none of JJ’s aggravating behavior kills Yuri’s desire for him — not the teasing remarks JJ sends through text or his uncanny ability to materialize out of thin air. If anything, every attempt JJ makes to establish contact, platonic or otherwise, intensifies the desire to unprecedented levels. Yuri finds himself in an almost constant state of arousal, one a hand around his cock and fingers shoved up his wet hole at night can’t possibly satisfy, not when JJ’s scent is everywhere he turns.

Thus, the 2022 Grand Prix Final becomes a tiresome affair, not because Yuri has to put a considerable amount of effort into extending his win streak to three years, but because he has to put an even greater amount of effort into stopping himself from shoving JJ against the wall and making out with him every time he so much as catches sight of JJ out of the corner of his eye.

On the other hand, securing the gold is hardly a challenge. There isn’t any drama or excitement to the competition this season. Yuri comes into the event expecting an easy win, and that’s exactly what he gets. It’s nothing at all like his first senior Grand Prix Final, when he was fifteen, friendless, and desperate for gold. He hasn’t had a proper rival since the 2020 Final; most of the other elite skaters who became his friends over the years have already retired. At twenty-two, he is the second oldest of the six competitors in the men’s division this year — one of the celebrated veterans all the teenaged rising stars look up to.

Logically, Yuri knows that he is hardly old. He is a young adult of questionable maturity — with an equally questionable amount of common sense, and the same tendency for impulsiveness that had him sneaking off to Hasetsu all those years ago. He often laments the passing of time that carries him closer to retirement, but he is not yet deteriorating. If he manages to avoid any serious injuries, and if he can somehow keep himself from _murdering_ JJ, Yuri could last into his late twenties like Georgi, Viktor, and Yuuri did.

It’s the wide, admiring eyes of Yuri’s younger competitors that make him _feel_ old. That, and the near constant reminders that most of his friends have moved onto another stage in their lives. When Yuri isn’t at the arena, he spends a lot of time avoiding everyone even remotely involved in the event.

He spends a lot of time avoiding everyone, actually — all thanks to JJ, of course. His phone buzzes with text message after text message for the entire duration of his stay in Colorado Springs, but other than reading over them with a scoff or a muttered curse, Yuri ignores them, or makes excuses where he can. Once, he lies and claims he has plans with Yakov and Lilia. Another night, he declares a need for extra practice. If he isn’t “too busy” then he’s “too tired” for socializing.

No one in Yuri’s social circle believes them. He’s been called out on his lies more than once before. They only let him get away with it because they’re used to his finicky behavior — or, particularly in JJ’s case, because they know exactly why he’s being so difficult.

But once the men’s free skate is over and Yuri has another gold medal packed safely away in his luggage, he can’t hold the pestering horde off anymore. On Saturday evening, they descend upon him with a relentlessness he should have expected, but was somehow still hopeful he could avoid.

> **Guang Hong:**  
>  YURA  
> STOP IGNORING ME  
> COME OUT WITH US  
> PLEASE?  
> JUST THIS ONE NIGHT?  
> YOU WON'T BE HERE FOR MY BIRTHDAY!!!  
> BITCH YOU OWE ME  
> I GAVE YOU A BABY  
> HEY  
> ANSWER ME

Yuri lies on the bed in his hotel room, stretched out in a miserable sprawl as he regrets ever deciding that he actually likes Guang Hong Ji.

He didn’t always. Guang Hong, like most people, was barely worth his attention during their years in the junior division together. Then, for most of their first year in the senior division, Yuri either faced him with annoyance or overlooked him entirely. It wasn’t until Leo and Guang Hong helped him track down Otabek in Barcelona that Yuri was forced to consider that he may have been wrong to make assumptions. He found it very hard to dislike either of them after that, but particularly Guang Hong, who kept texting him moral support, telling him how much of a badass he was for sneaking into a club in a foreign country while underage.

With a heavy sigh, Yuri consents to respond.

> **Yuri:**  
>  Who is us?
> 
> **Guang Hong:**  
>  Obviously everyone here  
> Me and Leo, Emil and Mickey, and JJ  
> It'll be like old times!!!!  
> Just with less people :(

As much as he’s been anticipating the conversation, now that the time has finally come to sit down and go over the whole sordid affair, Yuri is almost tempted to leave Colorado Springs without giving JJ another moment of his attention. It would serve that fucker right after the last few days.

Besides, he can’t let any of their friends know he might actually _want_ to see JJ.

> **Yuri:**  
>  Ditch JJ and maybe I'll consider it
> 
> **Guang Hong:**  
>  No can do boo  
> It's all of us or none of us
> 
> **Yuri:**  
>  I vote none of us
> 
> **Guang Hong:**  
>  Hey it's not out fault you and JJ have always had an uncomfortably amount of sexual tension

At least JJ seems to have kept his mouth shut this whole time. Yuri wouldn’t have put it passed him to start telling people about their relationship simply to get Yuri’s attention. This entire weekend, he’s been prepared for someone to confront him about it the moment he let his guard down.

> **Yuri:**  
>  Fuck you we do not
> 
> **Guang Hong:**  
>  Do you remember that time we got wasted after CoC??????  
> Three years ago I think?  
> And you went on that hour long rant about how unfairly attractive he is????  
> It was so awesome  
> I felt like I didn't know the real you until that night

It’s at that very moment that JJ himself begins to inundate Yuri with text messages. Yuri’s phone vibrates in his hand, one jolt after another, until he considers tossing it away or shutting it off completely. The notifications appear at the top of the screen but he stubbornly refuses to look at them, choosing to type out his response to Guang Hong instead.

> **Yuri:**  
>  YOU HAVE NO PROOF
> 
> **Guang Hong:**  
>  I think Phichit has video

Of course he does, that selfie obsessed nitwit.

> **Yuri:**  
>  WHAT???????  
> WTF WHY AM I EVEN FRIENDS WITH YOU???
> 
> **Guang Hong:**  
>  Because I learned your weaknesses and now I bribe you with booze  
> Which I am not against doing right now it that's what it takes  
> Come on I swear it'll just be dinner and no more

Yuri holds out on agreeing even as his stomach rumbles. Ignoring it, he rubs at his temples in an fruitless attempt to relieve some of the tension.

> **Guang Hong:**  
>  Yuuuuuuurrraaaaaaaaaaaaa  
> Please???????????  
> You're never in Colorado Springs!!!!!!!!  
> When will we have the chance to do this again????
> 
> **Yuri:**  
>  Idk probably whenever you and Leo finally get married
> 
> **Guang Hong:**  
>  But Yuuuuraaaaaaaaaa that's so long from nooooooooooow  
> You can't do that to me!!!!!  
> I demand one more night!!!!!!!!  
> We can pick you up!

Yuri shoves his face into his pillow and groans. Or at least he intends to. It comes out sounding more like a whimper.

He could refuse and stay locked in his room for the rest of his night, but Guang Hong wouldn’t be against standing outside his door, loudly reciting every embarrassing story Yuri has ever been a part of until Yuri finally relents.

Against his better judgement, Yuri backs out of his conversation with Guang Hong to open the texts from JJ.

> **JJ:**  
>  Hey babydoll  
> Guang Hong says I have to convince you to come out with us  
> Because apparently it's my fault you won't??????  
> I can't imagine why......  
> Please come out with us  
> Please please pleeeeaaaaaase  
> Come on sugarplum now you've got me begging  
> Our night won't truly be complete without your beautifully scowling face there to remind us how much you hate our company  
> Are you avoiding me again????  
> I thought we were done with that  
> You weren't this shy that first time in Beijing

Yuri chokes on his own saliva. How he manages to do so is beyond him, considering his mouth has suddenly gone dry.

Months ago when all this began, JJ was never this persistent about talking. He tried once that first night, but he dropped it quickly as soon as Yuri objected, and by unspoken agreement they decided not to discuss it after that. It was one of the few things they’d actually agreed on over the entire history of their rivalry-turned-reluctant-friendship. They would sneak off together when their paths happened to cross, at which point they would catch up, fuck, and then go their separate ways again.

At first, Yuri thought JJ might have been keeping quiet out of shame. As far as Yuri is aware, JJ has been loyal to his wife for most of their marriage, despite his well known penchant for flirting. Certainly, JJ could have had other affairs over the years and Yuri never would have known, but considering JJ’s moral uprightness, any indiscretion would have undoubtedly left JJ with a guilty conscious.

Unless Yuri’s altered opinion of him is wrong, and he was right before to think of JJ as a douchebag.

These aren’t the sort of messages he’d expect to receive from a disgraced man. None of JJ’s recent behavior screams “I feel like shit for cheating on my wife.”

Hastily, Yuri types a reply and sends it before JJ can continue.

> **Yuri:**  
>  WE AGREED NOT TO TALK ABOUT IT YET
> 
> **JJ:**  
>  We're not talking about it  
> I'm just mentioning it  
> We never said anything about not mentioning it
> 
> **Yuri:**  
>  FUCK YOU
> 
> **JJ:**  
>  Now you're mentioning it too ;D
> 
> **Yuri:**  
>  I AM NOT
> 
> **JJ:**  
>  Come out with us and I won't mention it again

Yuri swears under his breath. That manipulative little shit. Who gave him the right to be so frustrating and so fucking hot at the same time?

> **Yuri:**  
>  Why should I?
> 
> **JJ:**  
>  Because we want you to
> 
> **Yuri:**  
>  Why?????
> 
> **JJ:**  
>  Because we happen to enjoy your company
> 
> **Yuri:**  
>  WHY???????????????
> 
> **JJ:**  
>  Idk sugarplum I can only speak for myself
> 
> **Yuri:**  
>  DON'T
> 
> **JJ:**  
>  Stop avoiding me then  
> You're making things awkward for everyone

Out of spite, Yuri wants to say “no.” He wants to say “no,” stay in his room, and refuse to let anyone in, skip the exhibition and the banquet and hide away until he can return home, so he can get his revenge on JJ and continue to avoid this issue for the three months between now and the World Championships. 

This never should have become an issue in the first place. It’s all JJ’s fault. JJ, who came on to him. JJ, who has now divorced his wife. JJ, who didn’t bother to discuss it with him — which is exactly what Yuri wanted, until Isabella showed her face and dropped that bombshell on him.

_He picked me._

The more that thought swirls through his mind, the more Yuri wants to know the truth, and the harder it is to stop himself from confronting JJ and forcing him to explain himself.

What happened with Isabella? Why does JJ seem so cheerful? Did Beijing have anything to do with it? Why? This wasn’t supposed to happen, even if Yuri’s traitor mind occasionally wondered what it would be like. It was just supposed to be sex. That was all Yuri wanted. That seemed to be what JJ wanted, too. Now JJ’s wife is gone and JJ is still flirting, and Yuri can’t process any of it in a way that makes sense.

And, sure, there might also be a teeny, tiny part of him that actually wants to spend time with the friends he doesn’t often get to see in person — with JJ at his side instead of across the table, just to see what it would be like — but he has a reputation to uphold as an unsociable bitch, so he can’t admit to that.

> **Yuri:**  
>  Ok fine  
> But you're paying
> 
> **JJ:**  
>  Who are you kidding?  
> You've never had to pay for yourself when you've gone out with us
> 
> **Yuri:**  
>  Whatever  
> Also  
> Beijing stays between us
> 
> **JJ:**  
>  Deal  
> But can we talk later?

Yuri scowls and refuses to respond to JJ, tapping back into his conversation with Guang Hong instead.

> **Yuri:**  
>  You're a whore  
> Fine I'll come
> 
> **Guang Hong:**  
>  YAAAAAAAAYYYYYYYYY!!!!!!!  
> YAY YAY YAY YAAAAAYYYYY!!!!!
> 
> **Yuri:**  
>  But I demand a burger in all of its big disgusting American artery clogging glory  
> With chocolate of some type for dessert  
> And also a lot of wine if you're going to make me hang around with JJ

Breaking through the arousal still simmering low in Yuri’s gut, the ridiculous butterflies go on such a frenzy Yuri can hardly think through the sensation.

> **Guang Hong:**  
>  Shut up he's fine now  
> You've said so yourself
> 
> **Yuri:**  
>  And yet I do not recall
> 
> **Guang Hong:**  
>  Uh huh  
> I could go back through all of our text to find the evidence but that would take way too long  
> We'll be by the hotel in half an hour  
> Get ready boo
> 
> **Yuri:**  
>  You suck

Instead of rising immediately, Yuri spends several more minutes groaning into his pillow, wishing for once that he could be anything other than a stupid adult with stupid adult problems. If he ever had to deal with this sort of shit when he was younger, it wasn’t because of anything he’d done himself. Viktor was the one making a mess of things then, getting wasted at every turn, abandoning his obligations, and doing whatever the fuck he wanted without sparing a moment for anyone else. He was selfish and irresponsible, but he got away with it because of his enormous talent and his general likability. Now Viktor has a husband and a baby, and he’s surprisingly well-adjusted, if a little fickle still.

Viktor must have passed every part of his legacy onto Yuri, not just the skating, because now Yuri finds himself fucking up and making thoughtless decisions. Unlike Viktor, however, Yuri can’t bank on charisma to carry him through. He isn’t genial or engaging. He doesn’t have a winsome smile or a cheerful laugh. He’s sulky and resentful. He holds grudges, and he takes his anger out on other people. The heat of his rage might have cooled over the years, but the irritable disposition of Yuri’s youth still lingers. He never did manage to shake the rude, contentious reputation that led people to refer to him as “the Russian Punk.”

What the fuck could JJ even like about him enough to choose him over his _wife_?

There’s no possible way Yuri won’t regret this night. Something unbelievably absurd is going to happen. Fate has already orchestrated it so perfectly. He knew it would come to be the moment he saw JJ’s stupid face at practice. He’s had a few days to prepare himself, but now that he plans on coming out of hiding, Yuri can only flounder in uncertainty. Yet he’s agreed to this disaster of an evening — out of frustration and mulishness and unceasing curiosity, and the stupidly sentimental part of him that hates watching his friends move on without him, leaving him to stew in impatience and jealousy.

He _dreads_ the next few hours.

He _looks forward_ to the next few hours.

Which feeling is the stronger of the two?

Eventually, Yuri drags himself out of bed and goes through the motions of getting ready. He could probably walk out in his sweats and faded hoodie and no one would say a word about it, but changing into something else offers him a distraction, With his dying breath, he will insist that the attire he chooses has nothing to do with who he’ll be seeing or what may or may not come of this evening.

If he happens to put on his least ripped pair of skinny jeans, which are blue instead of black and therefore better disguise the cat hair often found all over his clothes, it isn’t because he cares about looking nice. It’s just that it’s cold out and he doesn’t want the chilly air nipping at his legs. And if he makes an effort to coordinate a black and white striped shirt with a leopard print scarf, it isn’t because he’s trying to look less garish now that he’s finally learned how to better integrate prints and patterns into his clothing choices. It’s because the shirt is soft and warm and long sleeved, and the weather in Colorado Springs has recently taken a dip below freezing.

If he washes his face and brushes his teeth, it’s only because he still feels gross after an afternoon of competition, even if he already took a shower after his free skate. If he decides to leave his hair down after taking a little extra time to brush it out, it’s only because letting it hang loose will help keep the back of his neck warm in the absence of a hoodie. It’s not at all due to the memories of JJ’s fingers tangling through it, pushing it from his face or making a fist of it in the throes of passion. The purple coat Yuri picks has nothing to do with the bright, eye-catching color, and everything to do with its warmth and functionality.

Comfort is the only thing on his mind. He’s already being dragged out into a potentially awkward situation. He’s going to make damn sure he’s as comfortable as possible before he has to face it.

He _certainly_ isn’t trying to impress anyone. He doesn’t have anyone _to_ impress. Guang Hong and Leo wouldn’t care, Emil and Mickey would care even less, and JJ doesn’t deserve the effort after the shit he’s pulled these last couple of days. Even if Yuri wasn’t currently annoyed with him, he wouldn’t have any reason to look so well put together, because spending the night with JJ wasn’t supposed to mean a damn thing before, and it _shouldn’t_ mean a damn thing now. That they fucked on three separate occasions makes no difference. Yuri was tipsy and bored and feeling a little vindictive. That’s all.

It’s not like he’s planning on it happening again…

Who is he trying to fool? That’s _exactly_ what he plans for this evening. He’s going to drink until he’s tipsy — or drunk, if that seems like the better option — then drag JJ back to his room and fuck him until his dick loses all function.

Yuri pockets his wallet, his phone, and his room key. He tugs on a pair of boots and gloves, then stalks out of the room toward the elevator, which opens mere seconds after pressing the button. The ride down to the lobby is faster than he anticipated, long enough for him to check the time on his phone and little else.

Ten more minutes.

At any other time, he might hide away in the lounge, where the younger competitors rarely venture, seeing as most of them are too young to drink in the States, but Yuri spies Yakov and Lilia sharing a bottle of wine at the bar and decides against it. He’s not in the mood to play third wheel. Yakov and Lilia don’t have the same sort of disgustingly sweet relationship as Viktor and Yuuri, but the way his coaches continue to pretend as if they no longer have feelings for one another is equally annoying. Yuri grew weary of it years ago. Plus, Lilia’s been looking at him expectantly, like she’s been biding her time, waiting for the right opportunity to corner him about JJ.

Waiting for Guang Hong and Leo from the comfort of one of the lobby couches would be Yuri’s next choice. Unfortunately, there are already a gaggle of girls sitting there. They don’t immediately look his way, but he doesn’t recognize them as skaters and something about the way they giggles makes him think they might be Angels. Somehow, Yuri succeeds in skirting around them without being noticed. He assumes his choice of clothing might have something to do with it. If they’d seen someone dressed head to toe in black and leopard print, they would have been after him in a matter of seconds.

Yuri escapes to the cold outdoors, where he expects few other people to linger.

Naturally, this assumption is a mistake.

“How did she like the squash?”

Of _course_ this is where Yuri finds JJ.

He freezes in place as soon as he hears JJ’s voice. For a moment, Yuri considers turning around to go back inside. Dealing with his fans _has_ to be less frustrating than this. It’s only stubbornness and impatience that keep him where he is, and the constant low thrum of arousal. He’s already agreed to dinner and all that it entails. Sooner or later, he and JJ are going to be in one another’s company. If he hadn’t resigned himself to it, Yuri would still be up in his room.

Cautiously, Yuri turns to spy JJ standing to the side of the entrance, out of the way and just barely beneath the portico, which at the moment provides the only shelter from the tiny flakes of snow slowly falling from the night sky. As luck would have it, JJ is focused on his phone and doesn’t seem to notice Yuri right away, smiling while he chats over FaceTime. Yuri tries to sneak a peek at the screen, but the angle and the distance make it impossible. He can’t even hear the response clearly, but watches JJ tilt his head on a laugh.

“I didn’t think she would,” JJ says. Then his voice goes a little high and sweet when he adds, “It’s okay, Mel Mel. Papa doesn’t really like squash either.”

Yuri won’t admit it out loud, at least not without several drinks to quell his bad mood and loosen his tongue, but JJ looks like a wet dream come to life. He always has, as long as Yuri’s known him. It simply didn’t matter when they were younger. 

Not that either of them can be considered old these days; at twenty-two and twenty-six they’re only halfway to middle aged, but the years have certainly changed them both — arguably for the better.

Out of habit, Yuri wants to say that JJ Leroy continues to be the bane of his existence.

The truth of the matter is that hasn’t been the case for quite some time.

It’s a rather unfortunate turn of events. Things wouldn’t be so fucked up now if Yuri could hate JJ as intensely as he hated him at fifteen.

Yuri can’t say for certain when things changed. Maybe there was a precise moment and he simply didn’t notice. More than likely, it was a gradual process. From one season to the next, something shifted. Georgi retired. Chris and Viktor retired. Yuuri retired. New skaters rose through the ranks to take their place, and though Yuri knew many of them from his years in the junior division, they were not his friends.

JJ was a familiar face in a changing crowd. Their interactions were predictable; Yuri knew what to expect when they saw one another. Set against less familiar annoyances from less familiar people, JJ began to seem tolerable. They both grew and matured — sometimes subtly, and sometimes in unmistakable ways. Yuri maintained his hostility because it was a comfortable habit, but the anger behind it diminished.

It became a habit. JJ would flirt and spout off his jokes, and Yuri would respond with insults. They pushed and shoved, but it grew more playful than genuine. On occasion, JJ would lend his ear when Yuri needed to bitch about something and didn’t have anyone else around to listen. In return, Yuri allowed himself to be amused whenever JJ teased other people the way he always enjoyed teasing Yuri. Their texting followed a similar tone — jokes and snark, and the occasionally cordial “congratulations babydoll” or “hey fuckface get ready to have your ass handed to you.”

Impossible though it might be to determine exactly when Yuri’s hatred fizzled out, it’s marginally less difficult to pinpoint the period in which Yuri first decided he found JJ attractive. It would have been soon after his friendship with Otabek changed, once Yuri actually felt motivated to give sex and intimacy and chance.

There’s no denying that JJ is easy on the eyes. Admitting that to himself is cause for less shame than it used to be, though Yuri still has no intention of verbalizing it.

People all over the world share the opinion; at this point, it’s practically a universally accepted fact. There’s a list somewhere — Yuri saw it online a few years back: “The World’s Hottest Male Figure Skaters.” JJ ranked #1, two spots ahead of “omega spitfire Yuri Plisetsky, recently legal worldwide.” Since then, JJ has earned a spot on several other lists. #1 on “The 10 Richest Figure Skaters,” a feat that doesn’t necessarily require good looks, but Yuri thinks it bears mentioning when certain aspect of JJ’s expansive career have obviously benefited from his appearance. He’s even ranked as high as #5 on a yearly list of “100 of the World’s Sexiest Alphas,” which Yuri was _almost_ impressed by, considering JJ has been the only figure skater to make it on a list dominated almost exclusively by well-established models, musicians, and movie stars. Then he remembered JJ’s band and fashion line, and it suddenly seemed marginally less impressive.

Where Yuri’s opinion differs from common consensus is this: JJ looks his best when he isn’t even trying, when he shuts his mouth and stands there looking laidback and unassuming. 

There’s plenty for Yuri to appreciate while JJ’s distracted by his phone. The casual sweep of his short hair. The natural thickness of his eyebrows. The straight line of his nose. The easy, casual smile that stretches across his face instead of the cocky grin he wears too often during competition. The fullness of his lips. The strong cut of his jaw. The width of his shoulders and the thickness of his chest. Yuri drinks it all in while he has the chance, before JJ notices him there and inevitably ruins the moment.

Since that first night in Beijing at the Olympics, Yuri has occasionally wondered if one of the reasons he finds JJ so attractive is because, for as long as Yuri has known him, JJ has been unavailable. It was rather suspicious how his relationship with JJ improved around the same time Yuri’s interactions with Isabella continued to sour. It must make him a shitty person that there’s been a part of him that’s felt smug — not that he truly intended to steal JJ away from Isabella, but there’s been a certain sense of pride in the thought that he _could_.

As Yuri stands there now, openly staring, he’s both horrified and relieved that his attraction hasn’t been tempered by the news that JJ and Isabella are no longer together. If the attraction remains, then the affair might not have been a result of his bitchy vindictive streak after all, and Yuri can console himself with the knowledge that he isn’t quite as terrible of a person as he previously assumed.

Then again, this means he can no longer blame any of his more malicious intentions, which seems to confirm all of his suspicions — that the affair had nothing to do with Isabella, and everything to do with the fact that he actually wants JJ, not because he _can’t_ have him, but because JJ makes him feel… _things_.

These are the moments when it becomes less about a good fuck and more about the fondness and admiration he’s tried to bury for so long.

JJ continues his conversation without looking at Yuri once. He speaks an informal Quebecois French interspersed with English, chattering on much too quickly for Yuri to piece any of the French together. JJ might say something about going to sleep — a suspicion that’s soon confirmed when JJ switches to a lullaby.

“I was never alive ‘til the day I was blessed with you…”

All at once, Yuri’s brain catches up with the conversation, and he realizes exactly who JJ has on FaceTime.

His heart skips an anxious beat, but Yuri throws all caution to the wind and makes his approach. He gives no warning before grabbing JJ’s forearm, forcing JJ to tilt his phone at an angle that offers Yuri a clear view of the screen without awkwardly appearing on camera.

JJ’s scent doesn’t fluctuate. Neither his expression nor his voice show any sign of surprise. He simply goes right on singing.

A woman Yuri doesn’t recognize takes up most of the screen — middle aged with short, dark hair and features that bear no resemblance to JJ. Yuri spares her little more than a brief glance before his gaze locks onto the baby held securely in her free arm.

Of all the children to have been born to his friends over the last several years, the one Yuri is least familiar with is Melody Leroy. He knows only her name, and that she was born during the off-season. She never features in JJ’s social media posts. JJ has been similarly tight lipped about her during each of their encounters, though in JJ’s defense, Yuri had every opportunity to ask, but didn’t. At the time, it seemed like an inappropriate topic given that Yuri was under the assumption that JJ was cheating on his wife.

Only now does Yuri wonder if that might not have been the case after all.

FaceTime does not offer a very good look at Melody. She’s black haired — an unsurprising overservation when one looks at her parents. Her cheeks are round, and she’d old enough that she can keep her head up on her own. The lighting in dim, but Yui can still make out the drool coating her chin. He wonders if she’s teething yet. She’s sucking on a pacifier, and she’s dressed in bright pink Minnie Mouse pajamas. She looks tired, lowering her head onto the woman’s shoulder, but every once in a while her arm moves toward the camera like she can reach JJ through it.

The entire time he sings, JJ’s voice is soft and warm. If Yuri had any doubts about JJ’s feelings for his daughter before now, they’re immediately put to rest.

JJ adores her.

“Night night, Melody,” he says once he’s done. “Papa loves you.”

“Enjoy your night, JJ,” the woman says with obvious fondness.

“Thanks, Maggie. I’ll call again tomorrow.”

JJ waves for the camera, then disconnects the calls. He slides his phone into one of his coat pockets and finally turns his attention to Yuri.

It isn’t until JJ moves that Yuri realizes he’s still holding onto JJ’s forearm, fingers clamped into place right beneath JJ’s elbow. Yuri snatches his hand away and takes a step back, shoving his hands into his pockets as he does so. Briefly, he meets JJ’s eyes, but JJ looks back at him with another aggravating mix of interest and amusement, so Yuri glances to the side instead, making a show of keeping an eye out for Leo and Guang Hong’s arrival.

“What’s up, Buttercup?” JJ says. “Why the long face?”

Yuri spares an irritated glance out of the corner of his eye.

He’s disgusted with himself over his clichéd attraction to JJ’s tall, dark, and handsome persona. Then again, perhaps it shouldn’t come as much of a surprise. Yuri already fell for the bad boy; he clearly has a thing for clichés.

Though the years have been kind enough to improve upon Yuri’s previously diminutive height, JJ still manages to tower over him. For a while it seemed as if Yuri would never stop growing taller, yet no matter how many of his other friends he surpassed in height, he could never catch up with JJ, whose height increased almost in equal measure. Somehow, JJ never struggled with it the way Yuri did. He continued to dominate the competition, perhaps because the changes were less rapid for him. JJ grew over the course of several years and could make minor adjustments to compensate; Yuri shot up in one quick burst and practically had to relearn everything.

At least the difference in height isn’t as significant as it used to be. Instead of staring at JJ’s neck, Yuri stands eye-level with JJ’s mouth — a most unfortunate circumstance given that JJ’s mouth has the ability to make Yuri go a bit weak in the knees, so long as JJ controls his obnoxious grin. Yuri takes pride in not staring, even when his traitorous brain supplies him with a few steamy memories.

Two years ago, when JJ suffered a knee injury that put him on a prolonged hiatus, Yuri was content to put his attraction behind him. It was only recently discovered back then, and not yet something he cared to accept about himself. It would have done him no good to pursue it. Besides, Yuri was deep into his Otabek delusions at the time. JJ was little more than a passing curiosity.

Needless to say, things with Otabek never panned out the way Yuri wanted them to. As disenchanted as he was at the time, Yuri can’t find it in himself to be shocked that, a year and a half after he saw JJ last, his attraction to JJ came right back into focus.

Apparently, that’s another cliché he can add to the list — Yuri Plisetsky, the sad fuck who’s attracted to people he can’t have. JJ showed up at the Beijing Olympics, _alone_ , with his hair artfully tousled and his face coated by that fine layer of stubble, and Yuri made very little effort to resist the turn of events that followed.

He thought he knew what he was getting himself into.

Apparently, he had no fucking clue.

 _But he picked me_.

“You shouldn’t be here,” Yuri says, pleased when his voice comes out hard and scathing. “You didn’t even make it to the Final. Do you just not give a shit how much people have been talking?”

JJ shrugs, as nonchalant as ever, and says, “My brother and sister made it. And my friends. Can’t I come along to show my support?”

“Don’t you have Nationals to prepare for?”

“I am. I used to train here, you know.”

“So, what? You just show up and everyone lets you do whatever the fuck you want?”

JJ neither confirms nor denies it, shrugging again as his smile widens and curls.

With a scoff, Yuri turns to eye him fully.

The layer of stubble isn’t the light coating it used to be — not long or thick enough for a proper beard yet, but certainly treading in that direction. It shouldn’t be sexy at all because it’s irritated Yuri’s skin each time they’ve been together, but it captivates him all the same. It sets JJ apart from all their other friends, and indeed from many other skaters in the men’s division, with the notable exceptions of Emil, who hasn’t been clean-shaven since the day Yuri met him, and Chris, whose attempts to grow anything more than stubble on his chin and above his upper lip have been much less successful.

Once, every aspect of JJ’s appearance used to be immaculately polished, to such an obnoxious degree Yuri would have punched him in the face simply to tarnish some of that perfection. At least the stubble lends a certain carelessness to him, which contributes to the appeal of this new look almost as much as the knowledge that this is not the same JJ who married Isabella.

Nevertheless, JJ is as impeccably dressed as he’s always been. His wool coat has clearly been tailored to his frame. The navy color brings out more of the blue in his eyes. He’s left it unbuttoned; beneath it, he wears a teal v-neck sweater over a white t-shirt. The sweater looks soft and warm — cashmere, if Yuri had to guess. JJ’s shoes and gloves are leather. His jeans are dark and snug around his thighs.

He smells like alpha and expensive cologne. On anyone else, the combination would be overpowering, but whatever cologne JJ favors compliments his natural scent well. The effect is frustratingly inviting. Yuri wouldn’t be totally against sticking his face against JJ’s neck to breathe it in, except doing so would cross a line he’d still very much like to keep between them — at least until JJ finally tells him what the fuck is going on.

Admittedly, it’s Yuri’s fault he hasn’t yet.

Instead of responding, JJ rummages around in his pocket for a pack of cigarettes and a fancy silver lighter; it even has his name engraved on it, the obnoxious prick. Yuri lets him light up and take a drag before snatching the cigarette away, crushing it between his boot and the cobblestones. JJ eyes him curiously, then laughs in the face of Yuri’s disapproval and holds up his hands in surrender, digging back through his pockets for a pack of gum instead.

“When did you even start smoking?” Yuri sneers.

“Several years ago,” JJ says, offering Yuri a stick of gum. When Yuri turns it down, JJ asks, “When did you stop?”

“The day I started.”

The mistake was clear to him the moment he brought the first one to his mouth — an attempt that began with a raucous coughing fit and ended with a migraine. As much as Yuri would have liked to look cool shrouded in smoke with a cigarette between his fingers, and as determined as he was to wipe the amusement off of Otabek’s face that first time, the habit never stuck. The smell and the taste don’t turn him off so much as it continues to give him pounding headaches, even after growing up around one smoker and befriending another one.

The health risks don’t seem worth it either, but he speaks less from actual experience on that and more from having Lilia drill the information into his head.

“I’m sure I can blame Beka for this,” Yuri grumbles, kicking the mangled cigarette butt with the toe of his boot.

“You’re not wrong,” JJ allows.

It isn’t difficult to imagine, especially as Yuri has plenty of memories to draw from — Otabek, JJ, and Leo standing around outside foreign venues and nightclubs, smoking and laughing over a bunch of inside jokes they never bothered to explain to anyone else. Sometimes Guang Hong and Mila would join them, and as Yuri had no other friends, he had no choice but to stand around waiting for them to finish, cursing himself for being the odd one out, resenting his role as the “responsible friend” when his entire aesthetic said otherwise.

He learned to embrace it later with a certain sense of superiority. After all, _he_ wasn’t the stupid one — _they_ were. Even then, he would have let JJ do as he wished; it was JJ’s business if he wanted to increase his risk for cancer, and if his reckless decisions took him out of the competition, oh well, that wasn’t Yuri’s problem.

That was before, though. JJ wasn’t a father, and Yuri wasn’t interested in keeping him around.

“I’m pissed off at you,” Yuri announces.

JJ doesn’t even have the grace to look apologetic. “I know.”

“What kind of fucking idiot are you that you’d—”

Arms around Yuri’s waist cut his ranting short, lifting him off his feet without warning. Yuri’s resulting shriek is embarrassingly shrill. He struggles but can’t break free, glaring over his shoulder into the grinning face of Emil Nekola.

“Hey there, kitty cat,” Emil greets him. “Finally decided to come out with us?”

“I can still leave, dumbass!” Yuri shouts. He’s pleased when Emil winces. “Put me down!”

Unlike certain other people, Emil doesn’t need to be told twice. He gives Yuri an affectionate squeeze that Yuri only allows because it means he’ll soon be released. Indeed, Emil sets him back onto his feet immediately after, ducking around him to pull JJ into a quick hug that ends with a ridiculously choreographed handshake.

Mickey follows along, exasperated. He and Yuri frown at one another in greeting.

“Mila says you need to get out more,” Mickey tells him — in that long-suffering way that means Mila has probably been badgering him about letting Yuri hide away in his hotel room all week.

“Mila can kiss my ass,” Yuri says. “She could’ve competed this year and forced me out all she wanted, but she decided to move to Italy and get knocked up instead.”

Predictably, Mickey’s expression sours.

“They sure didn’t waste any time after the wedding,” JJ observes. “Mila was pregnant within a month, wasn’t she?”

Mickey’s scowl turns into a grimace.

“Don’t pout,” Emil says, nudging Mickey’s side with a playful hand. “We get to be uncles! It’ll be fun!”

“Fun isn’t the word I’d use for it,” Mickey grumbles.

“Come on, kids are hilarious.”

“Wait until you have your own,” JJ says, grinning wide and fond.

“Absolutely not,” Mickey chokes out.

Emil digs his fingers into Mickey’s side again. “We’ve talked about adopting.”

Now it’s Yuri’s turn to scowl. Though the tension with JJ has diffused somewhat with the arrival of Mickey and Emil, a separate wave of pressure rushes in to replace it. This one finds its basis in jealousy. Try as Mickey might to look agitated by the teasing, there’s an undercurrent of warmth and affection between him and Emil that goes unspoken, but not unseen.

Yuri turns away from them and glares out into the night. Luckily, he doesn’t have to listen to much more of their cheerful talk, because a pair of headlights soon cut through the darkness and a large, black SUV rolls up to the front of the hotel.

Even if Yuri didn’t know what kind of car Leo drives, he would recognize Leo’s influence on the vehicle. A plush red ball decorates the center of the front grille, reindeer antlers perch above the passenger and driver’s side doors, and the rear windows are painted with festive slogans like “Be naughty; save santa the trip” and “Don’t get your tinsel in a tangle.” It’s festive and tacky, which makes it right up Leo’s alley.

When the passenger side window rolls down, Guang Hong’s smiling face beams out at them.

“What’s up, bitches?” he says. “Hop in.”

Yuri rolls his eyes and scuffs the soles of his boots along the pavement as he approaches the SUV. The other three follow close behind. Before Yuri can reach for the back door, JJ’s hand slips by him and grabs the handle. Yuri glares at him but steps aside to let him open it; he won’t complain about the treatment even if it’s unnecessary, though it takes every ounce of restraint Yuri has not to tense up when he climbs into the car with JJ’s hand against his lower back.

Either no one notices or they don’t think anything of it, because the gesture goes without comment.

“Nice of you to join us,” Guang Hong teases. He looks far too pleased with himself, twisted around in the passenger seat to grin at Yuri.

Yuri glowers at him, then very deliberately wraps one arm around the driver’s seat to give Leo as much of a hug as he’s able, all while showing Guang Hong one of his middle fingers.

Guang Hong lets out an exaggerated gasp. “Rude. Where’s _my_ hug?”

“Where’s Luna?” Yuri asks, noticing the absence of an infant car seat. He settles into the seat behind Leo while Emil and Mickey duck into the back.

“With my parents,” Leo says.

“Why didn’t you bring her?”

Guang Hong snorts. “You really want a five week old baby at dinner?”

“Why do you think I agreed to come out with you?” Yuri says.

“Because you love us and you’ve missed us, and also you’re probably hungry and want free food.”

Yuri doesn’t bother denying any of it, extending his hand into the front of the car to demand, “Give me your phone.”

“Why?” Guang Hong asks, as if he doesn’t already know.

“I want to see pictures. I know you don’t post all of them on Instagram.”

Guang Hong sighs like he isn’t actually thrilled to have Yuri along. He fishes his phone out of his pocket and unlocks it before passing it back to him.

JJ takes the seat behind Guang Hong, which puts him next to Yuri. Once they’ve all fastened their seatbelts, Leo pulls away from the hotel. It’s warm in the SUV. Quiet strains of Christmas music drift from the sound system. Yuri makes himself comfortable, reclining in his seat while he pulls up the photos on Guang Hong’s phone.

Most of them feature little Luna de La Iglesia, with Guang Hong and Leo in supporting roles, occasionally accompanied by Guang Hong’s mother and several members of Leo’s family — and, a least this week, JJ, Emil, and Mickey. Yuri slowly works his way through them, all the way back to the start of the week when he arrived for an early visit.

“I still think she looks like you,” he tells Guang Hong.

“That’s what I said,” JJ agrees.

“That’s what _everyone_ keeps saying,” Guang Hong says, “but I still think she looks like Leo.”

“That’s an evolutionary response,” Yuri counters without taking his eyes off of the phone. “Some psychological shit about mothers wanting to assure paternity. You know, because back in the day there weren’t tests to verify, so if a father was convinced the baby looked like them, they’d be less likely to be a prick and reject it.”

“Wait, really?”

“Yeah, I read a study about it.”

“You read a study,” Mickey says — slowly, like he finds it hard to believe Yuri would actually read anything.

Yuri shoots an impatient glare over his shoulder before returning to the pictures of Luna. “Most babies resemble both of their parents equally. Luna has Leo’s hair and nose, but the rest looks like Guang Hong.”

“Told you,” Leo says.

“Since when have you been an authority on the subject?” JJ asks, scent a little too indulgent for comfort.

Yuri doesn’t spare him a single glance. “Since everyone around me started having kids.”

“You say that we’ve betrayed you,” Guang Hong observes.

“You _have_ ,” Yuri says. “Who hasn’t been competing this season? _You_ , because you were a whore and got knocked up at the Olympics.”

Guang Hong snorts again. “As if you weren’t getting any.”

“I wasn’t.”

“Yura, you had some serious beard burn the day of the closing ceremonies, and I’m pretty sure Mila knows something about it.”

JJ laughs — a short, loud bark of amusement that alarms Yuri, because it sounds far too conspicuous. Yuri lashes out before he can think better of it, reaching over to smack JJ right in the center of his chest, which doesn’t shut him up, but at least his wheezing sounds pained instead of amused.

That he’s made a grave mistake becomes apparent as soon as Guang Hong turns in the passenger seat to eye him intently.

“It was a rash from the cold,” Yuri says in as casual a tone as he can manage.

Guang Hong holds out his hand. “I want my phone back.”

“Why?”

“Just give it back.”

Yuri hands it over with a huff. Their eyes meet and Guang Hong stares meaningfully, but Yuri turns away to watch the street lights streak by out the window. He folds his arms over his chest and does his best to tune out JJ coughing air back into his lungs, while Emil launches into another story about this year’s Olympic Games.

The buzzing of Yuri’s phone in his pocket soon distracts him. He pulls it out and checks the notifications, only to see that Guang Hong has texted him from the front seat.

He’d ignore it if he could, but he doesn’t trust Guang Hong not to say anything out loud if he doesn’t get a response.

Come to think of it, he can’t trust Guang Hong about anything in this situation. Guang Hong has spent an inordinate amount of time training in the States during each off-season, and his close affiliation with Leo over the years means he’s been friendly with JJ longer than Yuri has. JJ and Isabella must not be sharing the news of their divorce with many people if the press hasn’t gotten wind of it yet, but it wouldn’t be a stretch of the imagination to assume that some of their family and friends are aware. If Otabek knows, there’s a good chance Leo knows, which means Guang Hong has to know, too.

Yuri droops down in his seat and shoots Guang Hong a few suspicious looks as they text back and forth, but Guang Hong is too busy thumbing at his screen to turn back around.

> **Guang Hong:**  
>  WHAT DID YOU DO????
> 
> **Yuri:**  
>  Nothing
> 
> **Guang Hong:**  
>  YURA  
> THIS IS NOT GOOD
> 
> **Yuri:**  
>  Why not?
> 
> **Guang Hong:**  
>  YURA  
> HE'S A MARRIED MAN
> 
> **Yuri:**  
>  Is he??????
> 
> **Guang Hong:**  
>  YURA!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
> 
> **Yuri:**  
>  Answer my question

He doesn’t really _need_ the answer. Isabella made it clear she and JJ are no longer together. But if Guang Hong has more information, Yuri has every intention of dragging it out of him.

> **Guang Hong:**  
>  HOW LONG HAS THIS BEEN GOING ON??????
> 
> **Yuri:**  
>  How long has what been doing on?
> 
> **Guang Hong:**  
>  YOU  
> HAVING SEX WITH JJ
> 
> **Yuri:**  
>  I never said I did
> 
> **Guang Hong:**  
>  CAN YOU LOOK ME IN THE EYE AND DENY IT
> 
> **Yuri:**  
>  Easily  
> You know I could even if I was lying
> 
> **Guang Hong:**  
>  HOW LONG?????????

Yuri sighs loudly, glaring into the front of the car, but Guang Hong _still_ won’t look back at him.

> **Yuri:**  
>  Just since the Olympics
> 
> **Guang Hong:**  
>  JUST??????????  
> YURA  
> WHAT DID YOU DO?????
> 
> **Yuri:**  
>  Is he married or not?
> 
> **Guang Hong:**  
>  I DON'T KNOW  
> LEGALLY MAYBE?  
> TECHNICALLY NO?  
> ALL I KNOW IS HE AND BELLA HAVEN'T BEEN LIVING TOGETHER SINCE FEBRUARY

Fuck, but that’s a pretty stark implication. February could easily mean that whatever happened between JJ and Isabella was tangled up around the Olympics. If their split occurred _before_ JJ arrived in Beijing to watch the Games, then there’s a chance it had nothing to do with Yuri ending up in JJ’s hotel room.

But if JJ and Isabella called it quits the week _after_ …

Fuck. That is way beyond anything Yuri intended when he got a little drunk and decided to flirt back. Not that his intentions were very honorable to begin with considering he slept with JJ not once, not twice, but _three times_ while he was under the impression that JJ was married.

Cautiously, Yuri turns his head just enough to peer beside him. JJ has recovered from the smack and seems to be in the midst of an animated discussion with Emil. He’s twisted around in his seat as much as his seatbelt will allow, vigorously nodding along to something Emil says, before launching into a comment of his own. Yuri can’t determine the topic because his senses have come to a screeching halt. None of the words register in his brain. A strange weightlessness comes over him, leaving him numb. It takes far longer than it should for Yuri to realize he hasn’t taken a proper breath since receiving Guang Hong’s response. When he finally does, Yuri draws the air in deep and holds it in his lungs until they ache.

His staring does not go unnoticed. Once Emil picks up his part of the conversation again, JJ turns slightly and locks eyes with Yuri. JJ’s mouth lifts on one side, curling into another one of those self-satisfied half smiles Yuri used to hate. Seeing it now, Yuri’s gut burns with the desire to force it right off of JJ’s face, preferably with his own mouth.

As if that wasn’t infuriating enough, JJ winks at him.

The fucker _winks_ — sultry and slow, and so unruffled by this entire fucked up situation, it leaves Yuri close to screaming.

Yuri tears his eyes away before he can lose control of his expression. He’d prefer to direct the look of confusion and discomfort on his face toward his phone, rather than allow JJ to bask it in like a smug fucking bastard.

> **Yuri:**  
>  What did he tell you????
> 
> **Guang Hong:**  
>  NOT ENOUGH  
> BELLA WANT OUT  
> THEY SEPARATED  
> THAT'S ALL I KNOW
> 
> **Yuri:**  
>  This was not the plan
> 
> **Guang Hong:**  
>  YOU HAD A PLAN???????
> 
> **Yuri:**  
>  NO  
> We just fucked  
> It was nothing

Except it _wasn’t_ nothing. It was never nothing. It could never _be_ nothing.

_He picked me._

> **Guang Hong:**  
>  HOW MANY TIMES?????
> 
> **Yuri:**  
>  The Olympics  
> Mila and Sara's wedding  
> And CoC
> 
> **Guang Hong:**  
>  WHY????????????
> 
> **Yuri:**  
>  He came on to me
> 
> **Guang Hong:**  
>  AND YOU DIDN'T STOP TO QUESTION IT??????
> 
> **Yuri:**  
>  Why would I?  
> He's flirted with me since before he was married  
> He never stopped

He probably would have flirted through the entire goddamn wedding ceremony if Yuri had been invited.

> **Guang Hong:**  
>  SO YOU THOUGHT HE WAS MARRIED AND YOU STILL HAD SEX WITH HIM??????
> 
> **Yuri:**  
>  It sounds bad when you put it into words like that
> 
> **Guang Hong:**  
>  BECAUSE IT IS BAD  
> YURA  
> WHY?????????????
> 
> **Yuri:**  
>  Does this mean you're pissed off at me?
> 
> **Guang Hong:**  
>  I'M IN SHOCK
> 
> **Yuri:**  
>  But you're not pissed off?
> 
> **Guang Hong:**  
>  NO  
> BUT YURA  
> DO YOU KNOW WHAT THIS MEANS????
> 
> **Yuri:**  
>  I'm an asshole?
> 
> **Guang Hong:**  
>  I GET TO JUDGE YOU FOR THE REST OF YOUR LIFE!!!!!!!!
> 
> **Yuri:**  
>  I guess that's fair

Suddenly, JJ’s voice breaks through the cloud of silence over Yuri.

“Who’s blowing up your phone?” he asks — in a deliberate tone of voice that lets Yuri know he already has a pretty good idea.

“Beka,” Yuri lies anyway. At the same time, Guang Hong says, “Phichit.”

“That’s not suspicious at all,” Mickey says sarcastically.

Up in the driver’s seat, Leo chuckles.

This could _not_ be worse. Yuri can’t think of a more fucked up outcome. It isn’t even that he cares about JJ’s marriage. If JJ and Isabella are done, then oh well, tough shit, and good riddance. That’s for JJ and Isabella to deal with. Their marriage was never Yuri’s responsibility. Whatever problems existed between them, Yuri didn’t cause them. He’s little more than a bystander — not exactly innocent, but he likes to think his influence on matters would have been minimal at best, even if he _was_ the catalyst.

JJ’s intentions are what he finds so unnerving. This whole time, JJ hasn’t said a word — not at the Olympics, around which time his marriage apparently came to an end; not at Mila and Sara’s wedding, which would have been a damn good opportunity to confess, given the subject matter; and not at any point during the Cup of China.

Although… he did _try_ to have some type of conversation before Yuri stormed out of the hotel room. What if he meant to do it then? What if he was gearing up to admit the truth and Yuri just cut him down like it didn’t matter?

Hasn’t he dropped hints all along that he’s wanted more from Yuri than casual sex? JJ wanted romance in Beijing. He tried for soft and sweet and seemed disappointed when he didn’t get it. He gave Yuri what he asked for instead, but only after Yuri pushed him to do so. JJ was coiled tight with barely repressed frustration the entire time. If only he’d _said_ something, blurted it out before Yuri had the chance to push him away, they could have avoided the last month of silence.

What was JJ thinking keeping this to himself? Why didn’t he tell Yuri from the beginning?

Not that Yuri has a better track record when it comes to communicating.

Arriving at the restaurant does nothing to dampen the charged atmosphere. Yuri escapes the car only to have Guang Hong immediately link arms with him on the way inside. They exchange a few looks, ranging from discomfort to disbelief, but Guang Hong doesn’t actually corner Yuri until they’re safely indoors.

The steakhouse they’ve come to is disgustingly corny, all rustic wood beams and paneling, with taxidermied birds and deer heads mounted on the walls, but Yuri knows the food will be exactly what he asked for, so he lets the awful décor go without comment.

It’s busy on a Saturday night, even after the initial dinner rush has gone. Leo talks to one of the hostesses and has their group put down for a table. While the others stand chatting, Guang Hong pulls Yuri onto a cushioned bench near the hostess station. The crowd around them is loud enough that their conversation can go mostly unheard as long as they keep their heads together and their voices low.

“When I made fun of the sexual tension, I didn’t think you’d actually _act on it_ ,” Guang Hong says, scandalized. “What were you _thinking_?”

Yuri answers with a flat voice. “That’d I’d just won Olympic gold and I deserved a decent celebration.”

“So you _slept_ with him?”

“He came onto me. I said fuck it and went along with it. It wasn’t like I was _trying_ to break them up.”

“Does Bella know?” Guang Hong asks.

Yuri shrugs. “I’m not dead yet, so probably not.”

“Did you tell Otabek?”

“Why the fuck would I tell Beka?”

“Because you two have a _thing_.”

“We do _not_ have a thing,” Yuri argues.

“He’s your best friend,” Guang Hong points out.

“So?”

“Who you’ve also slept with.”

“I don’t see your point,” Yuri says, scowling.

“You tell him everything,” Guang Hong explains, “but you haven’t told him you slept with JJ.”

That probably seems telling. It’s true that Yuri wouldn’t have hesitated to say anything if he’d chosen a different partner. What other reason would he have to hide who he takes to bed from Otabek? Granted, Yuri hasn’t pursued many people. His list of fuck buddies has always been fairly small; in fact, it consists of Otabek and JJ and no one else, but he can’t say that without anyone making stupid assumptions about what that means.

It doesn’t _mean_ anything — just that he’s picky, or it takes him several years to warm up to people, or he’s simply not comfortable sleeping with some random person he just met. No one should be terribly surprised by that seeing as Yuri is notoriously asocial.

“What am I supposed to tell him?” Yuri asks. “He’s friends with JJ. He’s friends with Isabella. You think he’d be impressed?”

“No,” Guang Hong says. “The secrecy just makes it seem worse.”

Yuri tilts his head back against the wall and closes his eyes. “Nothing’s going to make it seem any better. It was easier to just let it go and forget about it.”

“But you didn’t forget about it.”

He couldn’t even if he tried. Still, Yuri argues, “I was doing a decent job until this bullshit happened.”

Guang Hong sighs beside him, then shifts on the bench to close the small gap between them. His head settles close to Yuri’s shoulder, a few strands of his hair tickling Yuri’s jaw.

“So then did you dress cute tonight because of JJ?” Guang Hong gently teases.

Yuri snorts and cracks his eyes open, rearing his head to show Guang Hong an unimpressed stare. “Don’t be so fucking stupid. I don’t look cute.”

“You do!” Guang Hong insists. “You look so bright and tidy!”

“You’re saying I don’t usually look good?”

“No, just that sometimes you look sort of scary.”

Yuri rolls his eyes before closing them again. Some of the tension begins to fade away now that Guang Hong has deviated from accusatory to cheerful. At the same time, the fatigue of the last several days slowly starts to creep over him. If given the chance, Yuri could probably doze off for a while. A cold breeze blows through the door every time someone enters or exits, but Guang Hong is a warm, comforting presence beside him, emanating the familiar scent of omega and new baby.

If only Guang Hong could keep his mouth shut. A few moments later, he whispers, “Did you know you can fly to Colorado Springs from Montreal in less than half the time it takes to fly here from Saint Petersburg?”

“What does that have to do with anything?” Yuri asks.

“Just that if you and JJ start dating…”

Yuri’s heart skips a beat. He chokes on nothing and lurches up, rounding on Guang Hong, who lets out a bright peel of laughter and jumps off of the bench to avoid Yuri’s retaliatory punch.

“Two seconds ago, you were busting my ass over a one night stand,” Yuri hisses.

Guang Hong grins, standing far enough away to remain out of reach. “I don’t think you can call it a one night stand if it happened more than once.”

“Now you want me to date that obnoxious fucker?”

“I was just thinking! We could see each other more often!”

Yuri slouches down on the bench and extends a long leg to aim a kick for Guang Hong’s shin. Guang Hong laughs again and hops backward just as Leo comes up to sling an arm around him, which results in Guang Hong settling into his side.

“Table’s ready,” Leo says.

Guang Hong makes a nauseating show of pressing several sweet kisses against the side of Leo’s face. Yuri gags but climbs off the bench to follow them, and if he happens to step on the back of Guang Hong’s shoes a couple of times as they make their way to the table, it’s far less than Guang Hong deserves for shooting Yuri suggestive looks over his shoulder when JJ falls into step beside him.

A hand comes to rest against Yuri’s back as they weave their way through the crowd.

Yuri ignores it.

He doesn’t meet JJ’s eye. He doesn’t react to JJ’s smile. He doesn’t try to _encourage_ any of it.

But he goes along with it, maybe even slows his pace to match JJ’s, and he thinks, secretly, that it actually isn’t so bad.

* * *

[A picture taken of Guang Hong, Leo, Yuri, JJ, Mickey, and Emil gathered around the table at dinner. Mickey and Yuri look unamused, but the other four grin broadly. Yuri looks to be in the process of downing an entire glass of red wine in one go.]

**43,681 likes**

**+guanghongji+** Mini reunion with @leo_de_la_iglesia @yuri_plisetsky @mickey-crispino @_emil_nekola_ and @Jjleroy!15 #fun #friends #reunion #adulting #winners #gpf2022 #coloradosprings #someonestopyura

 **phichit+chu** Just like the old days! I will I was there!  
**+guanghongji+** @phichit+chu I WISH YOU WERE HERE TOO BOO  
**yuri_plisetsky** @phichit+chu @+guanghongji+ I thought I was your boo  
**+guanghongji+** @phichit+chu @yuri_plisetsky I have two boos  
**phichit+chu** @yuri_plisetsky @+guanghongji+ Is Yuri jealous?  
**yuri_plisetsky** @+guanghongji+ @phichit+chu Why would I be jealous of you?  
**+guanghongji+** @phichit+chu @yuri_plisestsky Spoiler: Yuri is always jealous  
**christophe-gc** ❤  
**+guanghongji+** @christophe-gc ❤❤❤❤❤❤❤  
**mila-babicheva** Is Yuri drunk????? Wine drunk Yuri = the best Yuri  
**yuri_plisetsky** @mila-babicheva Fuck you I am NOT drunk  
**+guanghongji+** @mila-babicheva @yuri_plisetsky I can confirm that he isn’t drunk but also I know what all the :| faces were for now  
**mila-babicheva** @yuri_plisetsky @+guanghongji+ HE FINALLY TOLD YOU?????  
**+guanghongji+** @yuri_plisetsky @mila-babicheva Yeah and all I have to say is :|  
**phichit+chu** @yuri-plisetsky @mila-babicheva @+guanghongji+ Now I’m curious  
**yuri_plisetsky** @phichit+chu @mila-babicheva @+guanghongj+i I hate you all  
**lilia_baranovskaya** @phichit+chu @mila-babicheva @+guanghongji+ @yuri_plisetsky :|  
**mila-babicheva** @phichit+chu @+guanghongji+ @yuri_plisetsky @lilia_baranovskaya OMG DOES LILIA KNOW TOO?????  
**lilia_baranovskaya** @phichit+chu @mila-babicheva @+guanghongji+ @yuri_plisetsky :|  
**yuri_plisetsky** @phichit+chu @+guanghongji+ @mila-babicheva @lilia_baranovskaya LET ME LIVE MY LIFE

DECEMBER 10

* * *

Miraculously, Yuri doesn’t regret going to dinner.

The ambience of the restaurant is as trite as he expected. The wooden beams and paneling continue throughout most of the interior, and where there isn’t wood, there’s rustic stonework. The tables are scratched and dented in a way that looks purposeful, with a number of round water stains that could either be decorative or the result of normal wear and tear. Not only are there birds and animals heads mounted on the walls, but every last one of the chandeliers has been constructed from antlers. It’s all objectively awful, yet strangely cozy in a “backwoods cabin” sort of way.

Christmas music plays beneath the sounds of the crowd — not the traditional kind sung by church choirs, or the jazzy kind that came into prominence decades ago, but the pop-country kind that would be completely intolerable if it was anything more than barely discernible background noise drowned out by the swell of voices all around them.

They end up at a table by a great stone hearth festooned with green garland and twinkling white lights. Yuri sits with his back to the roaring fire. Being so near to it might have a positive effect on his ability to enjoy him, as the heat of it surrounds him and lulls him into a state of relaxation.

Or maybe that’s the wine.

He has a glass in his hand five minutes after sitting down, thanks to a very prompt waiter. That first glass is empty before their appetizers make it to the table. Yuri steals a second glass from JJ, who hasn’t done more than casually sip at his own. Distracted by the conversation, JJ doesn’t notice until it’s already half gone, when Guang Hong pulls out his phone to have their waiter take a picture of them all together. JJ laughs and doesn’t complain, just orders another glass of wine for himself before the waiter leaves again.

In his head, Yuri gives JJ a few extra “he’s not so bad” points for that.

By the time he finishes the second glass, Yuri feels the very beginnings of a mild but still pleasant buzz. The lingering tension seeps out of him, and his mood brightens by a fraction. A sense of lightness overtakes his mind. All the bullshit he stressed about before leaving the hotel becomes nothing more than a series of unimportant details. He hasn’t had so much that he feels too tipsy, but he’s cautious enough that he elects to hold off on another glass until he has more food in his stomach.

Yuri’s participation in the talk around the table remains limited at best, which is exactly how he prefers these gatherings to go. Never much of a conversationalist, Yuri has adapted to his growing friendships and the increase in social obligations that followed by becoming an observer. He sits. He eats. He listens to the chatter. He might snort at a particularly funny joke, or correct a piece of inaccurate information, or even, on rare occasions, ask for clarification when he misses a key point or fails to make sense of a story, but he is not usually the one discussing recent gossip or sharing humorous stories with the rest of the table.

Tonight, something about the combination of heat and wine puts Yuri in a sentimental frame of mind. He looks around at his friends. He reflects upon their history. He marvels over their inclusiveness — that he actually has a place among them, when he made no effort to endear himself to them.

There’s Leo and Guang Hong, who were kind to Yuri when he was young and awkward, and who helped him without a second thought, even when they had no personal investment in the outcome. They sit beside one another on Yuri’s left, exchanging the sort of casual touches that result from intimacy and frequent physical contact, and they share soft, private looks only they understand.

There’s Mickey directly across from him, who, like Yuri, prefers to leave most of the talking to those who are better suited to it. He glowers when teased, and he issues various complaints depending on the topic, but Yuri can see right through him to another trait they share — that instinct to act aloof, to pretend as if they aren’t happy to be included.

There’s Emil, too, who faces the world with wide smiles and gregarious laughter. He is, perhaps, the strangest of them — at least from Yuri’s perspective — because his kindness has no limits. Though Emil is full of enthusiasm, it rarely reaches the point of obnoxiousness, perhaps due to the fact that it seems so genuine. He is never without a kind word, and he manages to show his affection without smothering those in his company.

Then, of course, there’s JJ.

Even with two other alphas at the table with them, and many more in the crowd, JJ is the one Yuri continues to be the most consistently aware of — from the pitch of his voice to the strength of his scent. It could be a simple matter of proximity; JJ has been directly beside him all evening. Yet, somehow, the effect seems even more distinct than that. JJ hasn’t even been dominating the conversation the way he used to years ago, but his presence there is no less commanding. He has always had a prominent place in Yuri’s consciousness, whether or not Yuri was prepared to accept it. These days, Yuri isn’t sure he could ignore JJ even if he wanted to.

He doesn’t. Not this time. Yuri watches JJ with an intensity that can’t possibly go unnoticed. He makes a careful study of the expressions that cross JJ’s face, searching for any subtle changes that might imply JJ’s carefree demeanor is just a front, but there’s nothing unusual about his behavior. None of his smiles look strained. There’s no tension around his eyes. His posture remains loose and open. JJ laughs, and it doesn’t sound forced. He’s clearly enjoying himself. He teases and tells jokes the way he always has, and he shares amusing anecdotes about his band and his fans, and his friends and family in Canada.

He seems _happy_ , which wouldn’t normally be a cause for confusion, except that the circumstances shouldn’t support it.

Shouldn’t he be upset? Or ashamed? Or frustrated? Shouldn’t be be dismayed by Isabella’s departure?

He’s still wearing his wedding ring. Yuri noticed it as soon as JJ took his gloves off, and he hasn’t been able to put it out of his mind since. It’s a simple band without any adornment, but the platinum looks striking against JJ’s skin tone.

Yuri would give anything to pluck the damn thing off.

The only sign that something might be off is that, since they’ve been at the restaurant, no one has mentioned Isabella at all — not even Emil, who makes a point to ask after the rest of their absent friends.

“How are Viktor and Yuuri?”

A gentle kick to his foot startles Yuri out of his musings, courtesy of Guang Hong. It takes a moment of glancing around to table to see everyone staring at him for Yuri to realize the question was directed at him.

Which makes sense, of course, seeing as he’s the only one who sees Viktor and Yuuri often. The wine and the warmth of the fire must be making his brain a little sluggish. Yuri tries to cover his distraction by reaching for more of the spinach and artichoke dip.

“Obnoxiously cheerful,” he says. “Karina might be able to come home soon.”

“Already?” Leo asks with some surprise.

“Yeah, she’s been improving a lot. She was breathing without any help a few days after she was born, and they took her off the IV last weekend. All she has left is the feeding tube. Once her weight gain stays consistent and she’s taking more milk from Viktor or a bottle, they’ll take her off of it and should be able to discharge her soon after.”

“Wow,” Guang Hong says. “That’s so exciting!”

“How early was she?” JJ asks.

“Almost seven weeks.”

Emil scoops more cheese fries onto his appetizer plate. “Do they know why her heart rate dropped so low?”

“No. They ran a shit load of tests but haven’t found anything. I think they might want her to see a cardiologist for a while after she’s released, but so far everything seems normal and there haven’t been any permanent issues.”

Guang Hong lets out a happy sigh. “It’s amazing how everything worked out. I’m sure it was scary, but when you think about it… Viktor just happened to have an appointment that day?”

“Karina’s got herself a guardian angel,” JJ says.

Yuri rolls his eyes. “It was just a stroke of luck.”

Emil’s voice goes a little disbelieving when he says, “It’s so weird thinking about Viktor with a baby. Yuuri I can see, but Viktor was always so…”

“Self-absorbed?” Yuri suggests around another bite of toasted bread and dip.

Emil laughs, then says, “I was thinking more like otherworldly. You know, like you wouldn’t expect him to do the things the rest of us mortal do.”

“I don’t know,” Guang Hong cuts in, “I felt sort of like a god when Luna was born.”

And just like that, Yuri settles back into observing. The conversation continues along the same topic, but he’s content to watch and listen as Guang Hong recounts the last five weeks of life with a newborn.

With so many of Yuri’s friends now adapting to their lives as parents, this type of discussion has grown commonplace. Even so, there’s something sort of peculiar about it. He’s seen all of these people in various states of drunkness. He’s watched them embarrass themselves at formal events. He’s witnessed their lewd behavior and listened to their raunchy jokes. He’s played suggestive games with them, and he can attest to their immaturity. At this time last year, the most prevalent pictures on their phones were those taken at parties, competitions, and tourist attractions.

Now they sit here talking about feeding tubes and spit up, and whether or not co-sleeping is an accepted practice in their respective cultures.

“It’s sad how many people like to pretend their babies sleep in a crib in a separate room, when I’m pretty sure a majority of them are lying,” Leo says.

“It’s a shame thing,” JJ replies. “People get hung up on what it means to be a perfect parent. They’re told bedsharing can be dangerous, or they believe that myth about the baby putting strain of parental intimacy, and they don’t want to be judged for doing it.”

Guang Hong looks aghast. “I can’t imagine leaving Luna in a different room all night.”

“Yeah, I’ve mostly had Melody in with me since she was born. She only ever sleeps in a different room if she’s napping or staying with someone else.”

There it is again — that omission of Isabella. JJ doesn’t include her and no one questions her presence, nor do they inquire about her own experiences on the subject as a new mother. Yuri would expect her exclusion to be a cause for confusion among a group of people who’ve grow used to having her around, but there isn’t a single sign that any of their friends are puzzled by it.

All of them must know already. If that’s the case, they would have been told recently — probably sometime in the last few days while Yuri was busy avoiding everyone. Mila and Sara wouldn’t be far behind if Emil and Mickey were made away, and Mila wouldn’t be able to stop herself from harassing him again if her life depended on it.

There’s a part of Yuri that wants to ask right then and there. It isn’t fair the he’s still in the dark, though he has no one to blame but himself. He has a right to that information more than anyone else. What kind of game was JJ playing by not telling him before? Did he think it was funny? Was it some sort of weird power trip? Did he get off on Yuri being clueless, right up to the point where Yuri tried to end things?

But Yuri doesn’t say anything, because doing so might risk the exposure of their relationship, and that isn’t something he’s ready to publicly acknowledge yet.

For lack of any other option, he does the only logical thing he can think of. While his friends continue to busily converse, Yuri pulls up JJ’s Instagram on his phone and tries to piece everything together on his own. Not that he hasn’t already done so since seeing Isabella over Skype, but now that he has a rough time frame in mind, he delves into it with renewed vigor.

Most of JJ’s recent posts are behind-the-scenes pictures during competitions, short videos from practice sessions, and promotional material for his band or assorted charity events, with images from different photoshoots and interviews scattered throughout. It’s all suspiciously professional, especially for someone who loves to overshare as much as JJ does. One could argue that he’s simply been too buy, but it seems to Yuri as if JJ’s been making an effort to guard his private life by putting more focus on his career.

There’s a single picture of Melody — the only one Yuri has ever seen — posted on 17 June. It shows JJ peacefully gazing down at her while he holds her in his arms. She was perhaps only hours old at the time.

 _“I thought I knew everything about love,”_ it says. _“One look in her eyes and I realized how arrogant that assumption was. Please allow me another unironic use of #blessed.”_

Searching further back turns up nothing about Isabella. No pictures of her in the hospital. No updates about her pregnancy. No snapshots of her and JJ together on their wedding anniversary. Just post after post of skating, music, modeling, and charity. Yuri scrolls beyond posts from Mila and Sara’s wedding and the Olympics, back to the beginning of the year, then to the end of 2021.

There, on 24 December, he finds the pregnancy announcement — a picture of knitted baby booties fashioned into a pair of ice skates, with the caption, _“June 2022.”_

It isn’t until he’s worked his way back to the middle of October that Yuri finally finds a picture of Isabella. It was taken outside on a sunny morning, among the changing leaves. Isabella’s hair is longer than she wears it now, and she shows as restrained smile while fiddling with the “JJ” charm on her necklace.

 _“Isn’t she beautiful?”_ JJ wrote.

That’s it. Just that picture, that caption, and then nothing. Not a glimpse. Not a word. Just professionalism in the fourteen months that followed.

It was four months before the Olympics that JJ’s personal posts came to an end. That, if nothing else, seems to suggest that, whatever caused the breakdown of JJ’s marriage, it happened _before_ Beijing.

So did he choose Yuri over his wife or not?

Suddenly, there’s a gentle breath against Yuri’s ear, and JJ’s voice whispering, “You’re not as subtle as you like to think you are.”

Yuri manages to restrict his startled reaction to a slight flinch. He shuts his phone off and drops it into his lap, turning a glare on JJ, who shows him a lopsided smile too wide to be considered a smirk, but which doesn’t quite reach the full extent of a grin.

JJ leans back in to murmur, “If it makes you feel better, I’ve gone through your account to try and figure out what the deal is with you and Bek.”

His lips brush against Yuri’s ear ever so slightly. Yuri sits motionless in an effort to control himself. It would be far too easy to angle himself closer. He imagines what it would be like to feel the scratch of stubble against his cheek again, or to touch his nose to JJ’s neck and inhale deeply of his scent, which seems to emanate outward and wrap around Yuri — achingly tantalizing, but with a trace of contentment beneath it, as if the satisfaction JJ feels in knowing of Yuri’s attraction goes beyond physical pleasure.

Before Yuri can do or say anything in response, the remainder of their food arrives. The burger Yuri wanted, overlarge and sure to wreak havoc on his diet, appears before him with an enormous helping of fries. JJ pulls away, settling back into his seat with a smile and a word of thanks for their waiter, but the charged air between them doesn’t recede. Beneath the table, JJ’s food nudges Yuri’s own, then stays there, grounding Yuri before his thoughts can carry him away.

On Yuri’s other side, Guang Hong shoves a glass of water his way, quietly mocking him, “Drink if you’re so thirsty.”

Yuri does so simply to shock himself back into a properly functioning state. The glass is brimming with too much ice, and the water is freezing as a result.

Whether or not it works could be debated. Yuri’s head clears, but he’s no less conscious off JJ beside him. Obstinate as ever, Yuri grabs JJ’s arm to give it a tug before JJ can start cutting into his steak. He could have gained his attention some other way, but after two glasses of wine, the part of Yuri that wants to feel JJ’s bicep has risen far enough beneath his denial that he’s bound to have one or two slip ups.

“Let me see your phone,” Yuri demands.

JJ doesn’t try to argue, nor does he question why. He reaches into the coat hanging from the back of his chair and pulls his phone out, passing it to Yuri after unlocking it.

Yuri forces an impassive look onto his face instead of allowing any of his satisfaction to bleed through, though there’s a chance it’s detectable in his scent all the same. He sets JJ’s phone on the table and spends some time going through the collection of photos while he eats.

Almost every picture is Melody — a fact Yuri faces with some relief. He didn’t actually think JJ would spurn or disregard her, especially not after the FaceTime call earlier, but his relative silence on the subject certainly contributed to some apprehension.

Melody looks like Isabella in the eyes, except for the color; they’re still the newborn blue-gray. She’s pale like her mother, too, and she has Isabella’s delicate nose, but the resemblance to JJ is almost uncanny when she smiles. In several of the more recent pictures, she grins widely enough for Yuri to see her first two teeth coming up from the center of her lower gums. Considering she’s only just about to turn six months old, she has a surprising amount of hair on her head. It’s clear JJ enjoys dressing her up, because she frequently sports colorful headscarves and headbands with large flowers and bows to match her stylish clothing.

She’s often caught drooling, at least in the pictures dated within the last two months, but before that her secretion of bodily fluids on camera was minimal, aside from the occasional spit up stain. Being JJ’s child, it isn’t much of a shock to note that Melody holds the distinction of being one of the most photogenic babies Yuri’s ever seen. She maintains good eye contact, and her smiles are infectious. In several pictures, she sits with her feet daintily crossed at the ankle. In others, she shows the camera a distraught pout — which would be heartbreaking if it wasn’t so fucking adorable.

There are videos, too. Yuri turns the volume up and leans a little closer to hear them over all the noise around him. In one taken just over a week ago, Melody lies on her stomach on the floor, attempting to drag herself forward with her arms while failing to fully utilize her legs. There are videos of JJ singing to her — trendy pop songs, Disney music, and French songs Yuri doesn’t know — while Melody makes more distinctive noises than the newborn coos and sighs, but which haven’t yet reached the point of rapid babbling. Other pictures and videos show one or both of JJ’s parents playing with her. A number of JJ’s siblings also make regular appearances. The woman Yuri spied over FaceTime features in a few more, with a man whose features share similarities with Isabella.

The more Yuri delves into JJ’s life, the more confused he becomes. Isabella never turns up, but the man who looks somewhat like her and the woman from FaceTime could easily be her parents. Yuri goes back as far as the day of Melody’s birth, but Isabella is entirely absent. It almost seems as if she has no significant role in Melody’s life at all.

Resentment burns low, but unmistakably present, deep within Yuri’s chest.

He glances up to find JJ watching him — not with sadness or regret, but with amusement touched by pride.

“Congratulations,” Yuri says, though he makes sure not to sound too enthusiastic. “This baby is the single greatest thing you’ve ever done.”

“I don’t know,” JJ replies. The corners of his mouth curl with smug satisfaction as he continues, “I thought beating Katsuki and Bek to Olympic gold back in Pyeongchang was kind of cool.”

Yuri scowls at the reminder the _he_ didn’t make it onto the podium himself during the individual event that year.

Across the table, Mickey takes a break from his smoked pork chop and mashed potatoes to stare at Yuri and say, “You’re oddly invested.”

He sounds bewildered. At first, Yuri’s concern is that Mickey might have picked up on the attraction that still saturates the air between him and JJ. Neither of them have been particularly careful about hiding it, what with JJ’s touching and Yuri’s rather obvious staring, but Yuri was hoping he’d managed to keep any of his interest off of his face.

Yuri takes a large bite of his burger to cover his unease, issuing a muffled response around his food. “What do you mean?”

“Just that you’re a lot more enthusiastic about everyone’s kids than I thought you’d be.”

A large, animated smile spreads across Emil’s face. “Does Yuri Plisetsky want to be someone’s mama?”

Then Yuri has five pairs of eyes on him, all staring with poorly repressed interest. Though his initial discomfort fades somewhat, it’s replaced by an immediate swell of indignation.

He swallows heavily, forcing his food down a tight throat, and says, “So what if I do?”

Denying that, at least, isn’t something he cares to continue, not when he can barely suppress the desire. It’s always there, even during those moment when it isn’t at the forefront of his brain. He can alleviate it for a short period of time by distracting himself with other concerns, but it inevitably creeps back up on him. It’s become so deeply ingrained over the last four years, Yuri would be hard pressed to believe it wasn’t something he’d always wanted if he didn’t actually remember what it felt like not to be burdened by it.

Yuri faces his friends with dogged defensiveness. Fortunately, the only one to show any potentially negative reaction is Mickey, whose surprise quickly morphs into confusion.

“You should do it!” Emil says, as buoyant and encouraging as he always is.

“It isn’t that simple,” Yuri reminds him.

“There are always sperm donors,” Leo says.

Yuri frowns deeply.

It isn’t that he hasn’t thought about it before; he thinks about it all the time. It isn’t even that he hates the thought of it; he came to the conclusion months ago that a donor would be his best option under the circumstances. What troubles him the most is how the thought seeps into his brain and awakens the impatient voice in his head that says, _“I could do that now and be done with it.”_ A spike of enthusiasm shoots through him, so strong he has to glare down at his half finished burger to keep any of it from showing on his face.

Joking about it is one thing. Seriously considering it in the solitude of his own room is acceptable. Discussing any such plans with his friends is another thing entirely. Since realizing his relationship with Otabek isn’t likely to go any further, and coming to terms with his disaster of a love life over the course of his affair with JJ, Yuri has spent his time weighing his options but holding himself back from making a decision, because he knows once it’s in his head, he won’t be able to force the thought out again. There won’t be any turning back.

“I’ll give you some of mine!” Emil exclaims. He looks and sounds delighted by the idea, as if nothing would make him happier that to see one of his friends make their secret dreams come true.

Mickey bristles and chokes out, “No, you will _not_.”

“Why not? It’s like donating blood!”

“Except it’s not at all like donating blood!” Mickey seethes. “You’re not keeping someone alive, you’re creating an entirely new person who carries your DNA!”

The bickering continues, but Yuri pays very little attention to it. He glances at Guang Hong, who smiles and gives his arm a supportive squeeze. “It’s okay, you know.”

Yuri can’t agree, even if he’s already accepted that a baby is something he wants, even if he’s willing to do it on his own.

It doesn’t _feel_ okay. It feels awful, because as things stand now, that desire is so steeped in jealousy and despair — watching his friends gain the experience one by one, always with the thought in the back of his head that he might not get the chance, that it might never be the right time, that Georgi’s kids and Karina might be the closest he ever gets. Yuri never wanted to feel this way. He tried to stop it, told himself he was stupid and naive to even consider it, but the more he ignored it, the more he tried to stamp it out of his brain, the worse it grew. He’d change it if he could, force it out of his mid or bury it so far down it wouldn’t be able to torment him anymore.

Beneath the table, a hand settles on his thigh, right above his knee. Yuri turns from Guang Hong to JJ, who smiles softly and applies gentle pressure to Yuri’s leg.

It’s far more comforting than Yuri wants it to be. He has to tear his eyes away before he’s tempted to lean close. Instead, he reaches for JJ’s wine again in the absence of his own. If this isn’t a sign that he should be well into his third glass by now, then signs are bullshit and he’s been right to challenge their existence all along.

No one questions him further. If Yuri has anything complimentary to say about this group of people other than his previous observation, it’s that they can usually tell when he doesn’t want to talk about something, and they don’t push him until he’s ready. It’s a breath of fresh air after over a decade around Mila and Viktor, who seem to think they’re doing him a favor when they pester him about things. Even Emil, happy though he is to ensure that everyone remains in high spirits, knows when to leave Yuri to his own thoughts for a while. None of them leave him out of the conversation, but they seem to understand enough that they don’t pry.

Guang Hong offers Yuri a few more reassuring squeezes as they continue eating. He must be making an effort to regulate his scent, because Yuri begins to pick up on it more than before. It’s soothing enough that he’s able to put a temporary damper on his pessimism instead of bringing the mood down around the table. He isn’t any less troubled, but Guang Hong’s scent serves as something of an anchor. So long as he has that to focus on, Yuri won’t be at risk of getting lost in his thoughts.

And JJ — damn him and his annoyingly captivating presence — has a similar effect. His hand stays on Yuri’s thigh long enough that Yuri knows JJ’s willing to listen if and when he wants to talk. Then it slips away and JJ goes back to offering comfort with his foot pressed against Yuri’s own. JJ could make it provocative if he wanted to, but he doesn’t. He only interrupts the surprisingly peaceful gesture with a few intermittent nudges, as if to silently ask, _“Are you okay?”_

Yuri doesn’t respond, but he doesn’t pull his foot away either. He drinks more wine, and when their plates are cleared away, he orders the chocolate cake that was included in his dinner agreement with Guang Hong.

By the time their night draws to a close, two hours have passed since their arrival, and Yuri is both pleasantly full and increasingly drowsy. There’s some good natured bickering about how the bill should be split, which is put to rest only when JJ confesses to slipping the waiter his credit card when no one was looking.

Just as they’re preparing to leave, a girl approaches from a table nearby. She looks flustered and shy as she stares at JJ and asks, “I’m sorry but—are you—is it okay if—I mean, you’re—” but she can’t seem to get her thoughts in order long enough to finish.

By the fervent look on her face, as well as the fact that she doesn’t seem to recognise anyone else at the table, Yuri assumes she’s a fan of JJ the fashion designer and singer/songwriter rather than JJ the figure skater.

Of course JJ indulges her. He smiles wide and says, “Absolutely,” before rising from his chair for a selfie and an autograph, even if it means a few more people rush forward for one too — including their loyal waiter and two of the hostesses.

Yuri wants to be annoyed. He isn’t. JJ is extremely proficient with the whole thing. He smiles and poses, he signs his name and exchanges a few kind words, he expresses his gratitude, then he politely excuses himself, and instead of lamenting his departure or trying to monopolize his time, his fans voice their thanks yous and fall back to give him space. It’s actually sort of remarkable how considerate they are; Yuri’s used to the Angels, who often make a nuisance of themselves when they vie for his attention.

Leo chuckles and teases JJ, “If they knew how awkward you used to be when you were twelve, they’d probably be a little less in love with you.”

“Everyone has an awkward phase,” JJ argues cheerily.

They collect their things — sliding phones into pockets, tugging on gloves and scarves in preparation for the cold. JJ takes the purple coat from the back of Yuri’s chair and hands it to him when Yuri stands, which Yuri finds unexpectedly restrained of him. JJ’s normal behavior would suggest that he’d help Yuri _into_ the coat. There’s a slight twinkle in JJ’s eyes when he hands it over, and his smile curls playfully, like he means to say, _“Look, I can hold myself back for you.”_

Yuri rolls his eyes and knocks his shoulder against JJ’s arm after he puts it on. JJ lets Yuri move ahead of him, then brings up the rear as they make their way out of the restaurant. Yuri slows his pace enough that they’re neary side-by-side. As they pass through the door, JJ holds it open, and his hand returns to Yuri’s back.

Yuri hates that he doesn’t hate it.

* * *

[A short video of JJ, Leo, Guang Hong, Emil, and Mickey singing “Silent Night” in Leo’s car. They each sing in a different language, nearly drowning out the English version that spills from the radio. Yuri doesn’t join in, choosing to roll his eyes and make a variety of disgusted noises instead.]

 **Jjleroy!15** Living out my boy band dreams with @leo_de_la_iglesia @+guanghongji+ @mickey-crispino and @_emil_nekola_, featuring scoffs and glares from the incomparable @yuri_plisetsky. For some reason, he still thinks we believe him when he acts annoyed.

**107,452 likes**

**phichit+chu** You just need an ice or skating themed name and you’re ready for your debut  
**Jjleroy!15** @phichit+chu Suggestions are welcome :P  
**v-nikiforov** I want to be in the boy band!  
**yuri_plisetsky** @v-nikiforov Too bad you’re tone deaf  
**v-nikiforov** @yuri_plisetsky I don’t have to let you hold my baby  
**yuri_plisetsky** @v-nikiforov Katsudon won’t let you keep her from me  
**v-nikiforov** @yuri_plisetsky He’s my husband  
**katsuki-y** @v-nikiforov @yuri_plisetsky Be nice Vitya  
**v-nikiforov** @yuri_plisetsky @katsuki-y Le gasp!!!  
**yuri_plisetsky** @v-nikiforov @katsuki-y :P  
**katsuki-y** @v-nikiforov @yuri_plisetsky And Yura stop antagonizing  
**yuri_plisetsky** @v-nikiforov @katsuki-y :\  
**sara-crispino** I’m surprised you even got Mickey to sing along  
**Jjleroy!15** @sara-crispino I can be very persuasive  
**yuri_plisetsky** @sara-crispino @Jjleroy!15 And by that he means he wouldn’t shut up until Mickey joined in  
**mila-babicheva** Clearly you didn’t give Yuri enough wine  
**yuri_plisetsky** @mila-babicheva At least I can still drink  
**mila-babicheva** @yuri_plisetsky At least I’m getting laid on a regular basis  
**yuri_plisetsky** @mila-babicheva Ew no one needs to know that you whore  
**+guanghongji+** @mila-babicheva @yuri_plisetsky Pretty sure Yuri’s going to get dicked down soon  
**mila-babicheva** @+guanghongji+ @yuri_plisetsky What a slut  
**yuri_plisetsky** @mila-babicheva @+guanghongji+ I HATE YOU BOTH

DECEMBER 10

* * *

Yuri’s questions are answered soon after they return to the hotel.

Once they’ve waved their goodbyes to Guang Hong and Leo, JJ takes Yuri by the arm in the lobby. He smiles easily, but tones down the self-satisfied aura when he asks, “Are you good for another glass of wine?”

Yuri snorts. He manages to keep his expression impassive even as a shot of anticipation courses through him. “You underestimate my tolerance for alcohol if you think I’m not.”

Two and a half glasses with dinner have left him a little foggy, but not seriously impaired in any way. One more won’t do much harm.

They part ways with Mickey and Emil, then head into the lounge just off of the lobby. Yuri makes a hasty survey of the area to ensure they’re safe from any undesired annoyances in the form of coaches, younger competitors, or Angels, but there isn’t any immediate cause for concern. No one pulls out their cameras when he and JJ enter, so Yuri assumes they’re in the clear as far as their fans are concerned, and Yakov and Lilia are nowhere to be seen at this hour. Knowing what Yuri has learned of them, they’re probably watching television up in the room they pretend not to share.

After ordering their drinks at the bar, Yuri and JJ find an empty booth to slide into — not totally removed from wandering eyes, but secluded enough to offer some privacy.

The lounge is still moderately populated at this time of night. Most of the patrons appear to be middle aged and thoroughly occupied with their own affairs. The dim lighting lends a certain intimacy to the setting — formal but not romantic, thanks in part to the relatively simple décor. It seems to Yuri that he can’t escape the Christmas music no matter where he goes, but at least in the lounge it’s little more than the quiet tinkling of a piano.

Yuri sips his wine and eyes JJ across the table. JJ doesn’t look nervous, or agitated in any way. He settles into his seat with an ease Yuri frequently struggles to display in public settings. Whether that poise is real or not remains to be seen. As good of an actor as JJ is, Yuri has still seen him crack under pressure. It doesn’t happen often, and JJ has always recovered from it quickly, but he is not entirely immune, no matter what his bold behavior might otherwise suggest.

JJ doesn’t immediately launch into the conversation the way Yuri was expecting. Either he’s unsure how to begin, or he wants to give Yuri the opportunity to open the discussion.

So Yuri spits out, “You’re divorced.”

It’s more of an accusation than an observation. Yuri doesn’t make any effort to control the tone of his voice. He lets JJ hear all of the confusion and frustration, and the anger — that half of their friends seem to know already; that it’s been nearly a year since they fell into bed together the first time, and JJ apparently didn’t think it was important to reveal that little detail until now.

JJ’s answering smile is soft and small. “Not yet. The divorce won’t go through until we’ve been separated for a year.”

“And when is that?” Yuri stoically demands.

“Officially, we’ve been separated since the first of February,” JJ says, “but we were over by November of last year.”

Yuri narrows his eyes suspiciously, trying to determine whether or not he should trust that. JJ has never been one for blatant dishonesty. Then again, he also never seemed to be the secretive type, yet here they are — a secret to one another, one they’ve both kept for ten months.

Yuri glances at JJ’s left hand. They’ve shed their outerwear, so the platinum ring is once again on display.

“You’re still wearing your ring,” Yuri observes. He tells himself the only reason there’s any bitterness in his voice is because the presence of the ring seems deceptive.

JJ fingers the ring with his thumb. “Bella and I have been keeping it quiet.”

“Is she wearing hers?”

Yuri curses himself for not checking over Skype. He should have. Both of her hands were in plain view on Otabek’s shoulders. Somehow he didn’t think to look, and that irritates him, though he was understandably distracted at the time. He isn’t even sure why it matters, except that it seems to imply a lingering affection — and loyalty. Every time Yuri sees JJ’s ring, he’s reminded of Isabella.

She and JJ seemed like an ideal match. Not that Yuri was ever personally invested in the state of their relationship until recently, but he wasn’t so biased against them in his youth that he couldn’t see how well they fit together. He simply chose to view it as another source of annoyance, one more negative to hold against them. Rather like Viktor and Yuuri, JJ and Isabella gave off an air of perfection that grated on Yuri’s nerves. They were sickeningly happy together, and they projected an image of mutual respect and devotion that earned the admiration of the world.

In the brief silence that follows, Yuri worries that his question seems petulant or defensive. Indeed, JJ’s smile widens ever so slightly — not one of his smug grins, but still touched by amusement.

“It doesn’t mean anything anymore, if that’s what you’re worried about,” JJ says in a low tone of voice that’s clearly meant to be reassuring.

Yuri busies himself with his wine. It might have been a successful effort to maintain his antipathy, if only he sipped at it instead of swallowing deeply. “Why would I be worried about that?”

JJ could easily start teasing him. He would have years ago if he so much as _thought_ Yuri might be leaving him an opening. It was aggravating, how effortlessly JJ managed to read his every mood. He knew exactly which buttons to push to set Yuri off, and he learned over time, with surprising efficiency, when to smooth things over before he went too far.

He says nothing now. Not about their attraction, or any of their nights spent in the same bed. Not even a word about the kiss in the locker-room, or the chance of their relationship continuing, though Yuri can feel the subject hanging between them.

JJ’s restraint goes a long way in confirming how serious he is about this conversation. Yuri’s suspicions begin to subside as a result. He can trust that JJ intends to face him with respect, if nothing else.

There’s less of a hard edge in Yuri’s voice when he asks, “Why didn’t you say anything?”

“I mean, I would’ve told you in Beijing last month, but you decided you didn’t want to talk.”

Yuri lifts his gaze from his wine glass to glare at JJ. Ultimately, it’s his own fault for refusing to speak to him in the month that followed, but that doesn’t change the fact that JJ had plenty of opportunities before then. “That was nine months after the first time, JJ.”

“I know. You didn’t really want to talk that first time either.”

“And you couldn’t text me after the fact? Or over the summer after Mila’s wedding? What the fuck does everyone have against sending me a fucking message? _Beka_ doesn’t text me about your wife. _You_ don’t text me about your wife.”

JJ’s expression falls. His mouth lowers into a small frown. “Why would I leave something that important to a text message?”

“You could have called then.”

“Considering lack of communication was one of the problems Bella and I had, I’d rather discuss this in person.”

“Except by waiting all this time you’ve failed to communicate with _me_ ,” Yuri counters. “You let me think you were having an affair. _Three times_. You’ve had ten months since the Olympics to tell me the truth. You could have said you had something important to talk about. We could have made time to discuss it. If you wanted to do it face to face, we could have used Skype or FaceTime. Fuck, you could have stopped me from leaving last month and—”

Yuri cuts himself off. He’d rather not discuss his departure or the month of zero communication that followed. The more he does, the more he risks admitting out loud that his intention was to leave JJ before JJ had the chance to leave _him_.

JJ looks startled in the face of Yuri’s argument, then deeply apologetic. “You’re right. I’m sorry.”

The response is short, but firm enough that it sounds genuine. JJ doesn’t dispute it or try to shift the blame onto Yuri for avoiding him again. That part of the issue probably won’t remain unspoken forever, but rather than escalate the argument by bringing it up now, JJ takes what Yuri says, seems to accept where he went wrong, and he makes his amends.

It throws Yuri completely off track. He was prepared to bicker. For a moment, he can’t think of a way to continue. He falls silent instead, glancing down to pick at the tablecloth for lack of something to do with his hands.

“To be honest,” JJ begins again, a little slower this time, “I thought what happened at the Olympics was just going to be a one time thing, so telling you didn’t seem important. Then it happened again, and… I don’t know. Maybe I was a little nervous about how you’d react.”

“I had to find out from you _wife_ , JJ.”

Yuri means for it to sound like another argument. It doesn’t. He sounds uncomfortable and strained.

JJ’s answer is no less contrite than before. “I know. I’m sorry.”

Yuri clears his throat, but he doesn’t quite manage to regain his indifferent tone. “So it didn’t have anything to do with me.”

“I wouldn’t say that. My first mistake was flirting with you.”

Yuri’s eyes flick back up, glaring darkly.

That it was meaningless sex at first doesn’t matter to him. At the beginning, he’d convinced himself that he wasn’t look for something particularly significant between them. Even now, the delusions he once had about his relationship with Otabek haven’t shifted to JJ. He’s been careful about that. Yuri knew exactly what he wanted out of this arrangement when it began, and he _thinks_ he knows what he wants out of it now, if it happens to continue. His aspirations haven’t change. _Much_.

But with Isabella no longer a factor to the same extent she was before, Yuri will not accept being JJ’s mistake.

JJ’s mouth quirks ruefully when he offers clarification. “My first mistake as a husband was flirting with you.”

It isn’t a wholly satisfying thing to hear, but Yuri accepts it and covers what remains of his dissatisfaction with another sip of wine. “I thought she didn’t give a shit about that.”

“She didn’t, at least until it stopped pissing you off as much.”

“She didn’t trust you,” Yuri concludes.

JJ pauses for a moment and seems to turn that statement over in his head. “Maybe not. She says she did, but I know you made her uneasy. She was pretty convinced you were going to try something when you started flirting back.”

Predictably, Yuri’s denial springs into action. “I didn’t flirt back.”

“Really? Not at Worlds a few years ago? Or the rest of that year?”

The accusation, though spoken with gentleness, increases the tension between them. Yuri glances away while he tries to process an appropriate response.

He can’t deny that he did it. He remembers it all too well. 2020 was a year packed full of drama, beginning with the World Championships in Montreal.

But it wasn’t entirely his fault; Yuri refuses to accept it. Isabella antagonized him for years. Did anyone honestly think he wouldn’t find some way to get back at her? Ignoring her never worked. The yelling and the insults never worked. She thought it was funny. She laughed at him. She never took him seriously.

So he forced her to. He determined the best possible way to piss her off — by tapping into his meager acting skills and flirting with JJ.

He’d touch JJ’s arm in the middle of a conversation, or he’d play with his own hair when he had JJ’s attention on him, affecting shyness and innocence. He’d laugh at JJ’s stupid jokes, or smile and bite his lip like he was trying to be coy about it. He’d stand closer than necessary whenever Isabella wasn’t already clinging to JJ. He’d focus on manipulating his own scent, and with a goal in mind, it wasn’t too difficult to project something rich and enticing instead of the usual sharp annoyance.

It was, quite frankly, one of the most sickening things he’s ever done — not because of JJ, or the questionable morals behind it, but because Yuri couldn’t stand his own behavior.

“I only did that because she kept antagonizing me,” Yuri says.

“And you knew that would throw her off,” JJ agrees. “So you did it again at Skate Canada, and again at NHK, every time she was around, until the Grand Prix—”

“Okay, I get it,” Yuri cuts him off.

That was the ultimate shitshow, the 2020 Final in Beijing. None of the drama made it out to the public, but behind the scenes was an utter mess. Isabella screamed at Yuri. Yuri screamed back. Otabek gave his “please stop instigating and be civil” talk, so Yuri screamed at him too, which earned Yuri one of those cold, dark glares and a week’s worth of tension. Yakov and Lilia berated Yuri for his behavior. Yuri ignored them. He put on the innocent act around JJ. Isabella screamed at Yuri again, and the cycle continued.

There JJ was all the while, stuck in the middle of the storm, seemingly helpless to stop either one of them. 

 _“Yuri, please stop provoking my wife,”_ he’d say. Or, _“Please, Bella, this has gone on long enough.”_

Then, to cap it all off, JJ hurt his knee in the middle of the free skate. He couldn't even finish his program, he just limped off of the ice in front of a stunned crowd and disappeared into the back halls.

And that was the shittiest part of the whole thing, because it shouldn’t have happened. It could have been a fluke, sure, but Yuri can’t help but think that if JJ wasn’t distracted by the drama, if he wasn’t cracking under the stress of it, pulled in multiple different directions…

Yuri lost his rival that day. Two years worth of competitions and every victory since have felt distressingly hollow. Sometimes, when he’s feeling particularly sad and lonely, and lost without his friends, Yuri blames himself for all of it.

“It was a shit thing to do,” he says, then pauses to swallow through the tightness in his throat. Even after, his voice is rough with strain. “I don’t need you to tell me that. I know I’m an asshole.”

“Hey…” JJ reaches across the table to put a soothing hand on top of Yuri’s. “What’s done is done. I’m not going to hold it against you. I’m just trying to explain. You were both unfair to each other, and I didn’t do enough to try and smooth things over.”

He sounds so forgiving. _Too_ forgiving, perhaps. Yuri wouldn’t be half as kind in JJ’s place. He wouldn’t speak so softly, or extend his scent in comfort. He wouldn’t touch JJ’s hand, or stroke his thumb along the skin of his wrist. He wouldn’t offer a gentle smile, or have so much sympathy in his eyes.

That lack of cynicism is almost unsettling.

Yuri doesn’t pull his hand away, but he still feels the need to clarify, “So it _is_ my fault you broke up.”

JJ’s smile turns incredulous, like Yuri’s missed the entire point. “No, that’s not—… What I’m trying to say is that me flirting with you and you and Bella fighting was an issue she and I never worked out. That was on me and Bella, not you. We didn’t talk about it, we just left it the way it was. It didn’t end our marriage, but we might have had a better chance at sorting out our other problems if we hadn’t let our relationship get so strained.”

It seems too easy, being let off the hook like that. Sure, what JJ’s saying makes sense, and it aligns with some of Yuri’s previous thoughts on the matter, but Yuri can’t squash the feeling that JJ’s offering him too much leniency.

“Then what happened?”

Now JJ’s mouth dips into another frown. His thumb runs along the side of Yuri’s wrist one last time before JJ takes his hand away. He leans back in his seat, and he falls silent as he seems to collect his thoughts. He sips at his wine. To Yuri, it looks like an effort to waste a little more time.

“There were a lot of things she and I didn’t talk about the way we should have,” JJ finally begins. “Bella felt… trapped, I guess? That doesn’t really sound right. Cornered, maybe. Being with me when I lived such a public life put a lot of pressure on her.”

“As if _you_ weren’t under any pressure,” Yuri grumbles.

“Well, yeah, but that was something I chose.”

“She married you. She chose it too.”

For a split second, JJ looks bewildered. Then he shakes his head ever so slightly and continues speaking in a calm, measured way. “Maybe what I _should_ say is that she put a lot of pressure on _herself._ She was completely selfless. She supported my skating, my music, JJ Style, _everything_. She was involved with my fan club. She traveled with me constantly. She barely took any time for herself.”

“That’s her own fault,” Yuri argues.

“It doesn’t matter whose fault it was,” JJ counters. “Hers, mine, we both made mistakes. I don’t like speaking for her because I probably don’t do a very good job explaining the things she went through. She was stressed and overwhelmed. The attention got to her. Any criticism hurt her more than she let on. She tried so hard to be perfect, but the more pressure she put on herself to project that image, the more tense things got between us.”

Yuri struggles not to roll his eyes. He’s sure JJ doesn’t expect him to have much sympathy for Isabella, but he should probably hold back what negative reactions he can, if only to make the conversation easier for the both of them.

Nothing JJ has to say could possibly give Yuri a more favorable opinion of Isabella. If anything, Yuri takes every word out of JJ’s mouth and twists it into something else to hold against her. What did she think she was getting herself into when she married JJ? She knew the kind of life he led. She knew what his ambitions were long before she accepted his proposal, and she made the decision to follow him instead of having a life of her own back in Montreal. If it was too much for her, she should have made whatever changes were necessary to lessen the burden.

But she didn’t, because she was too concerned with her own image.

Yuri hides a frown behind another sip of his wine. He struggles to keep his mouth shut while JJ continues. All he wants to do is tear into Isabella for every single misstep.

“I was so caught up in myself, I didn’t even notice. Bella didn’t tell me how she felt until after I got injured.” 

How stupid could she be? 

“Even then, we didn’t talk about it as much as we should have.” 

Was she trying to sabotage her marriage? 

“She asked me to take some time off. I didn’t want to. I resented the hiatus, and I felt guilty for resenting it after everything she’d done for me, so I didn’t say anything. I thought I’d get over it, that taking a break would help in the long run.”

Silently, Yuri fumes. It was Isabella’s fault, then, that JJ didn’t compete last season? Not because of his injury? He could have been there all along?

Yuri keeps his eyes lowered and goes back to picking at the tablecloth. His other hand remains firmly around his wine glass, gripping it like a lifeline.

“So there’s another one of my mistakes,” JJ says. “I wasn’t happy. I should have said something. We should have worked it out together. Instead, we just… did what we thought we had to. We thought the way to make things better was to sacrifice and move on, when really we should have been talking it through and compromising.”

“Then what?” Yuri asks. He doesn’t quite manage to free his voice of spite. “If you did what she wanted, why the fuck did she leave?”

“We decided to have a baby.”

It’s a terrible place to pause, but that’s exactly what JJ does. Yuri keeps his head lowered but turns his eyes back up to glare while JJ takes a long drink from his glass. JJ seems to be at a loss again when he sets it back down. For the first time since they slid into the booth, he looks mildly uncomfortable. He shifts in his seat. He clears his throat. He meets Yuri’s eyes and offers a wan smile

“Are you _trying_ to make me hate her more?” Yuri says.

JJ laughs, but it’s too quiet and weak to sound amused. “I don’t know what makes you think this is easy for me to talk about.”

He does look hurt now. He’s clearly making an effort to contain it, but Yuri can see the sadness in his eyes. There’s some tension there, finally. Try as JJ might to maintain his positive attitude, he can’t keep some of the grief from breaking through.

It’s a strange thing to see. Has there ever been an instance between them in which JJ has let his guard down so much? No specific memory comes to mind. Yuri has seen JJ upset before, but only briefly or from a distance. It’s such a rare thing, and often unintentional on JJ’s part. Certainly, JJ has never purposefully opened himself up to Yuri like this.

Yet, despite the newness of it, and Yuri’s lack of finesse in matters of comfort, it isn’t as uncomfortable as he would have expected.

With a heavy sigh, JJ says, “And after dinner tonight, I know you’re probably going to have a hard time seeing anything from Bella’s perspective.”

“What the fuck does dinner have to do with anything?” Yuri asks.

JJ eyes him meaningfully. “I know you want a baby, and I know you’re going to resent that getting pregnant was Bella’s breaking point.”

Indeed, Yuri finds it hard to keep his resentment contained. It was already a challenge, but this raises the difficulty to an even more considerable level. How Yuri manages to hold himself back is a mystery, even to him.

Fury flattens the tone of his voice; caution slows its pace. “If she didn’t want a baby, why the fuck did she do it?”

“Because she thought she _should_ want it,” JJ says. “She watched her mom, her sister, her friends, and she spent her whole life following this grand plan. Get married. Be a supportive wife. Have a baby. Be the perfect mother. She didn’t think about whether or not it was actually what she wanted. She barely took herself into account at all. She based her life and her future around other people. A husband. A baby. A family.”

“That’s her own fault for catering to outdated bullshit.”

“People make mistakes.”

“That’s a pretty big fucking mistake to make,” Yuri sneers. “She doesn’t deserve your forgiveness.”

His head is spinning. It could be the wine, which is half finished, or it could be the anger, which he feels acutely, blazing so high it becomes nearly impossible for him to control. Yuri swallows through the bitter taste in his mouth. He washes it down with more wine, draining the rest of his glass in a matter of seconds.

“Are you going to let me finish?” JJ asks.

“Are you going to let me have your wine?” Yuri counters.

JJ spares him a wary look before sliding the glass across the table.

Yuri takes it in hand but doesn’t drink from it right away, making a motion for JJ to continue. “Go on. Give me another reason to never regret being a dick to her.”

“Maybe I shouldn’t, if this is going to make things worse between the two of you.”

“If you’re going to fuck me again, I deserve to know,” Yuri snaps.

Silence follows. Yuri’s brain doesn’t even catch up to what he’s just said until several seconds pass without JJ saying a word. It’s the first time either of them have referred to their encounters so bluntly. Yuri certainly hadn’t meant to broach the topic in such a candid fashion; his intention was to leave it unspoken, save for the few undescriptive references of “Beijing.” Not to mention, implying that it might happen again is a step further than he was prepared to take things.

On their own, anger and alcohol have a way a loosening his tongue. Together, they’re a particularly potent combination. As soon as his statement is out there, every last one of Yuri’s reservations go out the window. 

Suddenly, keeping his mouth shut about the sex this whole time seems like an incredibly stupid idea.

Why shouldn’t he acknowledge it? It’s not like either of them could have forgotten. They both _know_. What did he think he was going to prove by not talking about it? That the sex didn’t matter? That he doesn’t have feelings for JJ? That he isn’t looking for anything serious? That should be obvious, though whether or not any of it is true could be debated. Talking about it shouldn’t change that. If anything, refusing to say a word on the subject discredits Yuri’s claim of indifference.

Yuri can’t have that. They both need to know exactly what this is. He can’t allow JJ to get any ideas in his head.

Except JJ doesn’t look like the sort of person who might be getting the wrong idea. He has such a stern expression on his face — a small frown coupled with a furrowed brow. It’s the sort of pinched look Lilia gives Yuri when she’s completely exasperated by his behavior.

“You deserve to know that Bella and I are separated and in the process of divorcing,” JJ says. “The only reason I’m telling you the rest of it is because we’re friends and we have history, so I want you to know where things stand, otherwise it wouldn’t be any of your business unless we were together.”

He sounds so serious. It’s clear he won’t be moved. He probably thinks he’s being mature about the whole thing.

Maybe he is. Maturity has never been Yuri’s strong suit.

JJ’s scent has grown progressively weaker since they sat down. Yuri hasn’t been able to pick up many fluctuations beyond that moment of concern before. When he makes a point to pay attention to it now, Yuri senses only strict neutrality. JJ must be attempting to control it. Either he doesn’t want Yuri using his scent to make assumptions about his feelings, or he’s come to the conclusion that holding himself in check is least likely to spark an emotional response from Yuri. JJ was moderately relaxed at the onset of this conversation. Now his guard has gone up. It seems he has it in him to grow defensive after all.

If only JJ felt that defensiveness for himself, rather than Isabella. She isn’t even here, and JJ is protecting her. She left him, and she left their baby. Yuri doesn’t care what her reasons were. She _left_. She fucked up, and instead of making an effort to fix it, she ran away. Yet JJ defends her. Like her actions are excusable. Like he understands her point of view. Like she isn’t a stupid bitch for getting herself into this mess in the first place.

Yuri has to swallow several times to keep from shouting.

“Should I continue, or are we done?” JJ asks.

“Continue,” Yuri mumbles.

He sounds no less resentful, but JJ satisfies his request anyway, expressing his doubts over Yuri’s ability to keep his comments to himself with nothing more than a skeptical arch to his brow.

“We found out she was pregnant in the middle of October,” he says. “Bella cracked a few days later. She told me she was done, that she couldn’t do it anymore. She was tired and unhappy. She said she could barely even recognize herself. She didn’t know who she was or what she wanted, just that she didn’t want what we had.”

Yuri’s mouth flattens into a straight line. He stares at a small freckle on JJ’s cheekbone because he doesn’t feel capable of looking JJ in the eye. The sympathy is even more infuriating the longer Yuri has to hear it in JJ’s voice, and the regret in JJ’s eyes only makes it worse.

“Then _I_ was unhappy because _she_ was unhappy.”

Of course he was, because he was utterly devoted to her. Yuri was forced to watch it for years, every time he and JJ were at the same competition.

He saw it in the sparkle in JJ’s eye whenever he so much as thought of Isabella, and in the tender smile he wore when he looked at her. It was in JJ’s voice when he spoke to her, and when he talked about her to other people. “How have you been?” someone would ask. “I’m good,” he’d say, “and Isabella’s been wonderful. She started work on some new designs last week, and they’re really phenomenal,” like he couldn’t be prouder. If he wasn’t talking about himself, he was talking about his wife. “Bella says,” “Bella thinks,” Bella this and Bella that until Yuri would rather hear a resounding “It’s JJ Style!” than listen to another minute’s worth of JJ’s gushing admiration.

Even when Yuri was free from them in public, they took their obnoxious displays online. If it wasn’t Instagram, it was Twitter; if it wasn’t Twitter, it was some stupid news story Yuri happened to stumble across elsewhere — interviews about their wedding or their high school romance; whole articles written about how “pure” and “virtuous” their love was. JJ could parade around with his dick out during a photoshoot and the world still prattled on about the wholesomeness of their relationship, because JJ and Isabella were so sweetly in love with one another, and they never shut up about it. “#cute #relationshipgoals #truelove #blessed #loveher #bae #smile #together #inlove #happywifehappylife”

Nothing could have made it tolerable, but maybe Yuri would have had an easier time ignoring it if he had any reason to believe Isabella _deserved_ the recognition. She was barely one step above a fangirl.

“All the things we didn’t talk about enough before came spilling out,” JJ says. “We were in counseling by the end of the month, but I think we both already knew we’d waited too long.”

Yeah, five years too long. Or a decade. Whenever they met in school. They should have walked away and saved themselves the trouble. Instead, they were engaged at nineteen and married six months later, before they even hit twenty. Was it really “true love,” or was it impatience disguised as love? With as often as they stressed their commitment to waiting for marriage before having sex, they were probably dying to fuck one another.

“At that point, it was less about repairing our relationship, and more about figuring out how to separate without destroying things even more.”

Yuri swallows another mouthful of wine.

He has to partially zone out to make it through this without vocalizing his hatred. Everything JJ says makes its way into Yuri’s brain, but it stops there as soon as it enters, processed only enough that Yuri can comment if JJ wants him to, but after that it gets tucked away as knowledge to mull over at a later time — preferably when he’s returned to Saint Petersburg, where he can pace around his apartment and rant to poor Potya to his heart’s content, and spew whatever colorful insults he likes without JJ giving him that sad “but she was my wife and I loved her” look.

He can’t even be mad at JJ. He wants to be — _God_ , he wants to be — but JJ’s loyalty pisses him off only as far as it extends to Isabella. Otherwise, it’s an extremely attractive trait, comparable to JJ’s eyes. His whole face, actually. But especially his eyes. And his mouth, which Yuri’s gaze occasionally drops down to. And that freckle on his cheek, which Yuri never really noticed before spending the last few moments stubbornly eyeing it. JJ has another one on his temple, close to his hairline. And another on the opposite side, right where his eyebrow ends.

“Maybe if we’d stuck with it, we could have fixed some of it,” JJ continues, “but it felt like we were clinging to our marriage because of what _could_ be, instead of facing the reality that we just weren’t good at being a couple.”

That two people who got along so well ended up failing as a couple seems unfathomable to Yuri. Shouldn’t it have been simple for them, seeing as they were supportive of one another and shared a similar mindset on worldly matters like politics and religion? What did they have to disagree on? _Nothing_. They created drama where there shouldn’t have been any. They _let_ things fall apart. Then what? Isabella ran and JJ didn’t try to stop her? Why would he let her go like that? Because he felt too guilty to fight harder?

It’s one of the most ridiculous breakup stories Yuri’s ever heard simply because there doesn’t seem to be anything sensational about it. If they fought with one another, or if they cheated on one another, he would have had an easier time understanding. Instead, he’s presented with this: two people who claimed to be in love, letting their relationship break down because of an unobtainable image, and a failure to communicate when one or both of them felt the slightest bit stressed or unhappy.

Did they never express when they were sad or angry? Were they afraid of being resentful of one another? Were they ever actually in love?

Unbidden, thoughts of Otabek rise from the depths of Yuri’s brain. It’s been seven years since Barcelona. Four since he looked into Otabek’s eyes and began to imagine the sort of life they could build together. Yet nothing ever came from it. They had so much time to discuss it; if it ever meant anything to either one of them, wouldn’t they have done so? Can Yuri consider himself any better than JJ or Isabella, when he can barely even bring himself to talk to his own best friend?

Yuri swallows more wine to loosen his throat again. More to distract himself from his own thoughts than anything else, he asks, “So she doesn’t have anything to do with the baby?”

JJ smiles in return, but it’s a weak effort compared to his usual large grins. “Bella comes around to see her every once in a while. Or she did up until a couple of weeks ago. I have Melody full time. Unless I’m traveling, obviously. She’s with Bella’s parents right now.”

“Why is your wife in Almaty?”

“Probably because it’s the furthest she can get from me.”

It’s an awful thing to say, yet when Yuri meets JJ’s eye, he doesn’t see any additional hurt or sadness there. One corner of JJ’s mouth rises higher than the other, twisting into a self-deprecating smirk. It’s a strange expression on a face that has always been so well-practiced in the art of smug satisfaction.

JJ must notice Yuri’s bewilderment, because he quickly abandons the smirk for something a little more relaxed. “She hates herself for what happened. If she needs to get away to start healing, I want her to do that.”

“She’s being selfish and irresponsible,” Yuri argues.

“She’s being human,” JJ says. “You’ve figured yourself out. She’s just starting to do that. She was horrible to you, but she was good to me, and I didn’t make it easy for her. I was an arrogant, self-involved piece of shit, and you know it.”

Yuri can’t deny it. Even if he could, he wouldn’t want to. Offering compliments as a balm for serious self-reflection has never been Yuri’s way.

JJ was exactly as he described — pompous, full of himself, and in love with the sound of his own voice. Somehow, even when the topic of discussion had nothing to do with him, JJ could make it about himself. He monopolized conversations. He tried to insert his opinions where they didn’t belong. He cast himself in a superior light, regardless of the situation. He never _shut up_ , and he either didn’t notice that his behavior turned people off, or he didn’t care.

Yuri used to think it was the latter. Now, after the passage of time, Yuri can’t be sure, because JJ is not that person anymore. JJ hasn’t lost his positive outlook, but his ego has been tempered. He made such a considerable effort in his youth to be strong and noble, to lord over the men’s division as King, yet it wasn’t until recently — when he stopped trying so hard, when he learned how to hold himself back — that JJ actually began to fit the part he always wanted to play.

“Bella deserves the chance to get her life together,” JJ says, still with so much compassion.

“You give her too much credit,” Yuri tells him.

JJ’s smile twitches in a way that suggests vague amusement. “I’m not saying she didn’t make mistakes, and I’m not saying I’m the only guilty one. I’m saying a relationship is a two way street, and Bella and I ended up going in different directions.”

Yuri rolls his eyes.

He was expecting more. He’s spent so long agonizing over it, avoiding all manner of social interaction because of the assumption that whatever JJ had to say was going to be a cringe-worthy mess of heartbreak and betrayal. Now all Yuri has is his old, tired hatred of Isabella. The story could have been scandalous — something to make the press coverage interesting once the news finally leaks. Whatever made up bullshit the tabloids and fan conspiracy theorists spew out will be more engaging than this, yet none of it will be amusing, because the reality of the situation is so disappointingly bland.

“Why the fuck aren’t you more upset?” Yuri asks.

“I was, in the beginning,” JJ replies. There’s an immediate improvement to his mood now that the heavier aspects of the conversation are behind them. Tension drains from his posture. His smile looks easy instead of forced. “I’ve had a year to work through it. What’s the point of focusing on the negativity when I have plenty to be happy about? I’ve got Melody. I still have my family and my friends. I’m skating again.”

“Did you fuck me out of spite at least?”

JJ laughs. There’s a glimmer of mirth in his eyes when he answers. “Is that what you want me to say? That there was a part of me that was angry at Bella, so I slept with you because I knew it might hurt her?”

Yuri shrugs.

“Maybe I shouldn’t have slept with you at all,” JJ says. “It isn’t fair to Bella and it’s not fair to you, considering everything that happened between the two of you.”

It’s the sort of thing any upstanding gentleman in JJ’s position might say. He’s so principled, Yuri has to wonder how the thought ever even crossed his mind that JJ might do something unethical.

There’s a part of Yuri, selfish and cruel, that _wanted_ JJ to have committed some grave offense, not simply for the entertainment value, but because of what it would mean for Yuri’s feud with Isabella. That small, but savage and self-centered part of Yuri wanted to be an accomplice, wanted to tempt JJ away, to lead him astray.

It would have been the ultimate victory. As much as Yuri doesn’t think he’s ready for their relationship to come to light, as much as he doesn’t yet want to consider what may become of it now that they’re both free to do whatever the fuck they want, as much as he’d like to ignore the less sinister aspects of them both that might have led them to one another, when all is said and done, Yuri would have treasured his role in it. If this was what ended JJ’s marriage, what drove Isabella to leave, the vicious asshole in Yuri would have been proud.

He wonders if JJ knows that, if he can see it in Yuri’s eyes. It’s a source of shame to Yuri, when he’s being completely honest with himself. He doesn’t know where that part of him comes from. Is it jealousy? Deep down, has that served as fuel for his resentment all this time?

Whatever the case, Yuri doesn’t want to hear any regret in JJ’s voice. Not about this.

He lands a gentle kick against JJ’s shin — a rather poor recreation of some of their encounters over the years, but the past is still there between them, and the memories of JJ’s injury lace Yuri’s actions with caution.

“I’m not a mistake,” he says.

Why he feels compelled to make the distinction is a thought Yuri would prefer not to examine. Why should it matter, when this was never supposed to mean anything in the first place?

JJ’s smile curls again. With absolutely no hesitation, he says, “No. You’re not.”

There’s an abrupt shift in the mood — a surge of tension that has nothing to do with crumbling rivalries or lingering resentment. Yuri breathes deep to curb another swell of anticipation, but fails spectacularly. JJ’s scent saturates the air again, rich and heady. How it goes unnoticed by anyone else is lost on Yuri. It seems so obvious, potent in a way Yuri is unaccustomed to, seeing as he’s rarely made a point to inspire this sort of attention from other people. It dominates their surroundings, so vivid that, for a few moments, it’s the only thing Yuri can focus on.

He can’t be sure what his own scent is doing, not when his awareness is so completely consumed by JJ, but it must shift in response, from careful neutrality tinged by annoyance to a keen interest. JJ inhales slowly, like he means to savor it. His eyes look darker than usual in the dim lighting. Briefly, his gaze lowers to Yuri’s mouth. Even in public, JJ makes no effort to conceal his desire. Anyone could spot them there and see how eager JJ appears in Yuri’s company. Their affair won’t remain a secret for much longer if JJ continues to act without caution.

Would that be so horrible? Yuri can’t decide. There are certain aspects of a reveal he would rather avoid until he feels prepared to deal with them. He doesn’t know how he would explain himself to Otabek, whose opinion still matters to Yuri whether or not Otabek has any right to tell him what he should or shouldn’t do. He doesn’t care to deal with the increased media scrutiny either, not because he can’t handle the attention, but because he’d rather not give anyone the chance to make any false assumptions about a relationship Yuri is still in the process of decoding.

But when Yuri stares across the table, and he sees that look in JJ’s eyes, those concerns all but disappear. Yuri _wants_ , and he doesn’t know _why_ , except that it’s easy to want in the wake of broken dreams.

It almost feels inevitable that this should happen. He and JJ have been in one another’s orbit since Yuri began competing internationally. JJ is as familiar to Yuri as a competitor as Yakov and Lilia are as coaches. They should be challenging one another, inspiring one another. They should be on the podium together, side by side, the way they used to be when they were teenagers, years before Yuri realized how much their rivalry spurred him on.

“Maybe I was a little angry the first time,” JJ allows. “I hated myself for failing Bella, but…”

Slowly, JJ reaches across the table again. Yuri’s steadying hold on his wine glass releases, and he lets JJ take his hand. JJ turns it over against the table, palm up. He pushes Yuri’s sleeve back enough to reveal the Olympic rings tattooed on Yuri’s wrist.

“I don’t regret it,” JJ says, stroking his thumb over the colored ink. “I didn’t know if I was going to compete again, even after Bella and I were done. Then I saw you skate in Beijing. If I regret anything about you and me, it’s that I wasn’t on that podium too.”

Yuri nearly grasps JJ’s hand. His fingers begin to curl, but he stops them as soon as his brain processes the thought.

He feels weightless and heavy all at once, like he could float off on a cloud made of ill-defined fantasies, or sink into the ground to be buried alive. He wants to pull away, but he wants to angle himself closer too, and he can’t be sure which desire is stronger, because it changes from moment to moment. He looks into JJ’s eyes and wants to reach for him across the table, lick into his mouth and hear him moan the way he did in Beijing. Then he feels JJ’s thumb on his wrist, tracing the shape of each ring, and Yuri wants to pull away, to put space between them, because this feels suddenly too weighty for something that was never supposed to mean a damned thing.

Yuri takes a breath to center himself, and all he smells is JJ — his scent, his cologne, both achingly familiar in a way Yuri never would have thought he’d miss, let alone crave.

“Tell me—” Yuri begins, but cuts himself off when his voice sounds hoarse. He swallows to correct it, then tries again, but it’s a halting effort still. “From now on, tell me. When things happen with your wife. I want— … I _deserve_ to know.”

JJ doesn’t correct the “your wife” remark, or argue the difference between what Yuri wants and what he deserves. His smile looks amused again, and he stops stroking Yuri’s wrist to gently grasp Yuri’s hand instead. “I can do that, if you can maybe try to avoid me a little less.”

It’s a difficult request to agree to, if only because Yuri has turned avoidance into an art form. He conceals his emotions beneath anger, or he denies his feelings outright. Over the years, he’s adopted Viktor’s annoying habit of “forgetfulness” for himself, though Yuri comes off as an uncaring bastard instead of a fickle airhead. Still, it’s a convenient tool to use to put off conversations he’d rather not have. Yuri likes to think he doesn’t run away so much as he skillfully dodges heavy topics until he has the chance to remove all manner of weakness from whatever opinion or argument he might like to pose.

His first instinct is to deny that he’s avoided JJ at all, even if it’s obvious that’s what he’s done. He’s barely able to hold the reaction back. Yuri’s mouth opens around a caustic “I haven’t—” but he cuts himself off and clamps his mouth shut around the rest, because JJ looks both amused and doubtful before Yuri can even finish. They both know how Yuri’s behaved. Yuri has made very little effort to pretend otherwise. He _blocked_ JJ for an entire month, for fuck’s sake.

His second instinct is to deny that JJ has any right to ask that of him. Yuri manages to keep the words in by gritting his teeth together, but the sentiment still passes between them through his eyes, which narrow spitefully. The fact of the matter is that JJ has every right to make the request, and Yuri knows it. He should have expected it, based on his own demands. He’s asking for personal information about something JJ has already said Yuri would not normally be privy to — information Yuri could easily use to his advantage, and he’s yet to prove he can be trusted with it.

JJ wouldn’t be out of line to insist that Yuri refrain from avoiding him at all, that there be an equal amount of give and take between them — and, indeed, that should be the way of things. But JJ hasn’t asked that. He’s left room for Yuri to back off, to keep a certain amount of space between them, to continue this relationship with a level of caution Yuri probably should have demonstrated all along.

JJ is being overly generous. That’s the only reason Yuri agrees.

Hesitantly, Yuri’s fingers curl again. He doesn’t abort the reaction this time. He clasps JJ’s hand, and his stomach gives a nervous twist of those pesky, fluttering butterflies when he thinks that it’s actually not as awful as he assumed it would be.

JJ smiles at him, with a softness that should be alarming.

“Okay,” Yuri says.

He’s sure he can manage it, as long as he gives precedence to the part of himself that never wanted to avoid JJ to begin with. It’s a small piece, but it’s there— and growing larger by the moment — buried deep down under the annoyance he uses to cover it.

It’s easy to pull it out from beneath the denial when JJ’s hand is so warm, and the tender smile puts an admiring light in JJ’s eyes.

* * *

 **JJ Gossip** @jjgossipwhore - 21m

Thoughts?

> **jayjay** @jayjaygrlstylin
> 
> Another JJ sighting in Colorado Springs. Correct me if I’m wrong, but that’s Yuri Plisetsky, right???
> 
> [A grainy photo of JJ and Yuri, taken from behind in the restaurant parking lot. The lighting is terrible at night, but JJ quite obviously has his hand along Yuri’s back.]

11:41 PM - 10 Dec 2022

15 Retweets  97 Likes

  

 **Lex @ gpf hype** @fluffmasterxd - 11m

Replying to @jjgossipwhore

I mean his wife did delete everything from her social media recently

  

 **hanna @hanna_bo_banna** \- 6m

Omg everyone knows JJs a gentleman. Stop trying to stir up drama

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Comments are life, and I guess kudos are an acceptable alternative!


	3. Because the Night

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> JJ is a pain in the ass, but also hot as hell.
> 
> Also, feelings are a thing. 
> 
> Gross.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **Changes to Chapter 3 include:** mild updates to the introductory blog post to account for changes in chapters 1 and 2; slightly expanded social media posts; otherwise this chapter needed a lot of polishing but is basically the same and you could probably get away with not rereading it, except the smut scene is slightly different since this is the first time they’ve knotted in this version, plus Yuri couldn’t resist sucking dick this time. Also I didn’t bother with text images since I’m lazy and they messed up last time, so all the text messages are written in regular text again. Sorry. :(

"Take me now, baby, here as I am,  
Pull me close, try and understand,  
Desire is a hunger, it's the fire I breathe;  
Love is a banquet on which we feed.  
   
Come on now, try and understand  
The way I feel when I'm in your hand.  
Take my hand, come under cover;  
They can't hurt you now,  
Can't hurt you now,  
Can't hurt you now..."  
   
\- ["Because the Night" by Garbage](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=tOmKGjy-Ct0)

* * *

>   **The Tiger’s Den**
> 
> Home          About          Cats          Personal          Yurochka
> 
>  
> 
> **And then we go one more round...**
> 
> POSTED ON 11 DECEMBER 2022
> 
>  
> 
> Quick question from the romantically disinclined:
> 
> How do you know if you like someone? Like really, _really_ like someone.
> 
> Also, what do you do when the person you might like is someone you used to not like?
> 
> Asking for a friend.
> 
> Jk, asking for me.
> 
> So you’re all aware of Ivan. If for some reason you’ve been living under a rock or you’re new here and haven’t caught up yet, go check back through my personal posts and you’ll find out about the massive fuck up that was me sleeping with a married man.
> 
> EXCEPT — and this is where I need you guys to bear with me — IT WASN’T A FUCK UP AFTER ALL.
> 
> MAYBE??????
> 
> IDK.
> 
> Before you start yelling at me again for stealing someone’s husband, allow me to inform you that HE IS ACTUALLY NOT A MARRIED MAN. And by that I mean he’s been separated from his wife for a while now and he just… didn’t tell me. Because he’s a FUCKING IDIOT and I’m going to KILL HIM for putting me through that whole mess of _feelings_ . Which I _still_ have, but also HE’S SEPARATED FROM HIS WIFE GET OFF MY BACK. And, no, it WASN’T MY FAULT. He hasn’t been with her since _before_ we started fucking. 
> 
> I am _not_ a homewrecker.
> 
> I’m actually his rebound.
> 
> Now I’m stuck in this weird position where I _thought_ we were just fucking around, but actually we were in the clear all along, and if we want to date… I guess we can???? I’m sure some of you are going to crawl into my comments to bitch at me about the fact that just because they’re separated doesn’t mean they’re officially divorced yet, which I KNOW, THANK YOU, I DON’T NEED YOU TO REMIND ME. 
> 
> _Anyway,_ we’re not actually seeing each other. We’ve never even gone on a date, and he hasn’t said anything about wanting us to be legit. We’ve just fucked. Three times. Well, technically more than three times??? It was three separate occasions, but we went at it for a while both times. It wasn’t a one-and-done kind of thing is what I’m saying. The sex was great, but there’s a lot of awkward history so I’m just kind of ??????????
> 
> I feel like he wants to make this a real thing, but he hasn’t said anything yet. I know the easiest solution is to fucking ask him, but when have I ever made things easy for myself? I don’t even know if _I_ want to make this a real thing.
> 
> Hence my question.
> 
> The last person I had feelings for was Denis, and we all know how that turned out. I had to go and torture myself with the “I want to have your babies” kind of feelings. I’m honestly embarrassed by it. I don’t know what the fuck I was thinking, except that he’s my best friend and it would have been so easy, ugh.
> 
> Realizing I liked Denis romantically was definitely one of those “... _oh_ ...” moments. You know, everything seems normal, and then all of a sudden you look at him one day and BAM. _Feelings_. All over the place. And you have no idea how you never noticed before.
> 
> With Ivan, I have no fucking clue. What are these feelings I have?????? They’re something, I just… have no words for them.
> 
> This is the entire reason I don’t date (except for the fact that I just fucking hate people, but whatever). How the fuck is anyone supposed to make any sense of this shit????
> 
> I kind of want to tell him to fuck off just so I don’t have to deal with this bullshit anymore, but also there’s a part of me that might actually be disappointed if he doesn’t want to be… you know… _official_.
> 
> I used to hate Ivan. I used to say really mean shit about him (behind his back _and_ to his face), because he annoyed the shit out of more more than anyone on this Earth. More than my sisters, even. (Shocking, I know.) Somehow me saying mean shit never seemed to bother him, though. He’d tell me I was cute (I’m not) and call me disgustingly sweet names (he still does this) and act like a gentleman (this, too), which felt patronizing at times, but now I can’t tell if I was projecting and/or reading too much into it, because it doesn’t feel patronizing anymore.
> 
> I have no fucking idea how things turned out like this. We didn’t see one another for a while, then he showed up to this party I went to and we were both a little drunk and, more importantly, without significant others (for two different reasons). He’s not as annoying as he used to be, at least. I hate to say it, but I actually _do_ kind of, maybe, sort of like being around him. He’s… not the most awful person on the planet. I mean, he’s nice????? And I’ve always been weirdly vulnerable to nice people. Also, he’s really hot. Like stupidly, _stupidly_ hot.
> 
> Which I now realize is what I should have led with if I wanted to try acting like my feelings aren’t legit.
> 
> Fuck, whatever. We fucked at the party and it was surprisingly good, and now sometimes I look at him and want to make out with him for hours. But also he can be insanely frustrating and I still want to punch him in the face, too. Is that normal? I don’t think that’s normal. Am I fucked up??? (Keep in mind, this piece of shit let me think he and his wife were still together for the last… however long. It’s been a while. Way too long for me not to give him hell for it.)
> 
> I don’t know what to do.
> 
> Ugh. Someone help me. I’m turning into my sister Vera.
> 
> Oh my fucking God, I _am_ turning into my sister Vera. Hit on by a hot guy at a party. Agonizing over it for months after…
> 
> What the fuck.
> 
> Fuck fuck _fuck_.
> 
> Am I going to start sighing and pining over him now???? Is this karma for all the rude shit I’ve said about my sisters and their stupid love lives??????
> 
> Fuck this shit.
> 
> (One day I’m going to stop using this blog to vent about personal shit and actually focus on the things I started this blog to blog about.
> 
> Like Yurochka.
> 
> Do you think he ever gets himself caught up in bullshit romances????
> 
> Is this even a romance???????????
> 
> Fucking gross. I just gagged a little.)
> 
> ButughIreallylikehim.
> 
>  
> 
> TAGGED: Personal, Relationships, Yulia is a dumb fuck

* * *

[A short video of four-year-old Pavel Popovich dancing around the living area of a cozy apartment. On the television screen, one can see footage of Yuri’s winning free skate. Pavel appears to be copying Yuri’s every move.]

**11,451 likes**

**georgipopo** @yuri_plisetsky’s biggest fan #babypopo1 #teamrussia #proudpapa  
****

**phichit+chu** Learning from the best!  
**v-nikiforov** @phichit+chu I thought I was the best  
**phichit+chu** @v-nikiforov You’re retired :(  
**yuri_plisetsky** @v-nikiforov @phichit+chu And thus irrelevant  
**v-nikiforov** @phichit+chu @yuri_plisetsky Ouch the ice tiger strikes again :(  
**yuri_plisetsky** MY HEART  
**v-nikiforov** @yuri_plisetsky You have a heart????  
**yuri_plisetsky** @v-nikiforov Yeah I only give pieces of it to the most worthy  
**v-nikiforov** @yuri_plisetsky And only the kids are worthy???  
**yuri_plisetsky** @v-nikiforov I never said that  
**mila-babicheva** I still have no idea what Yuri did to get this kid to love him so much  
**georgipopo** @mila-babicheva Our feisty kitten is a natural with kids  
**yuri_plisetsky** @mila-babicheva @georgipopo Basically I don’t smother him and I listen to him when he talks  
**mila-babicheva** @georgipopo @yuri_plisetsky Alright mama yura show the rest of us how it’s done  
**lilia_baranovskaya** Precious!  
**yuri_plisetsky** @lilia_baranovskaya This is high praise

DECEMBER 11

* * *

They fuck. Of course they do.

But not that night.

By the time they slide of the booth and leave the lounge, Yuri is both tired and overfull. He makes his way to the elevator at a sluggish pace, and leans against the wall with his eyes closed during their ascent. JJ stands beside him, close enough for Yuri to lower his head onto JJ’s shoulder if he wants to, turn his face into JJ’s neck and breathe deep.

He doesn’t do it, wary still about crossing that line between friends who fuck in secret and friends who become something more. Yuri settles for what he believes to be the safer alternative: allowing their arms to entwine while JJ strokes a thumb over his wrist. The contact is intimate but not overwhelming. Rather like JJ’s foot pressed against his own beneath the dining table, the long fingers wrapped around Yuri’s wrist provide a grounding effect. JJ’s thumb traces the Olympic rings — sometimes in a smooth slide, sometimes in soothing circles.

When they arrive on the correct floor, those careful fingers release Yuri’s wrist and take his hand. JJ’s palm is rough but warm, his grip relaxed. Yuri could easily untangle their fingers or shake his hand free, but he chooses not to. Hand-holding is not such an uncommon gesture as to be out of his element, though taking one of Georgi’s kids by the hand is hardly a sufficient comparison. It’s a strange thing to walk down the hall hand in hand when so few of his encounters with JJ thus far have contained an air of romance. Yuri can’t even be sure this qualifies. He allows it simply for the chance to test it out, but has no clue what to make of the fact that it doesn’t feel out of place.

He expects JJ to follow him into his room. Indeed, Yuri plans to drag him in and shove him onto he bed; to hell with Yakov and Lilia right next door. But when Yuri fumbles with his keycard, JJ takes him by the arm and guides him around, pressing Yuri’s back to the door.

JJ cups Yuri’s face with his left hand. Yuri shivers, the platinum wedding band cold against his jaw. Annoyance rises quickly, but JJ lifts his hand away before Yuri can say anything about it. Fingers comb through his hair, brushing the long fall of it out of Yuri’s face. Yuri’s gaze flicks from JJ’s eyes to JJ’s lips. Anticipation courses through his veins.

Yuri tilts his head and JJ leans in, but the kiss that follows is gentler than Yuri expected. It ends in seconds, the pressure against his lips there and gone again before Yuri can enjoy the contact. He moves to chase after JJ’s mouth and manages to capture another moment. Then the hand in Yuri’s hair tightens, exerting just enough pressure to hold him in place.

JJ smiles softly and says, “Good night.”

The wine must have impaired him more than he realized, because the haze over his brain prevents Yuri from reacting with more than a breathless, “... what?”

Silver-blue eyes shine like stars. JJ trails the pad of his thumb over the thin line of a blond eyebrow, voice a little louder, a little more firm when he repeats himself. “Good night.”

“But—”

“Tomorrow,” JJ interrupts. His hand slides lower, thumb caressing Yuri’s cheek. “After the exhibition and the banquet.”

Yuri shakes his head more to dispel the confusion than to disagree. Heavy with fatigue, Yuri can’t jog his brain into action enough to formulate words, failing to ask if JJ will even be at the banquet.

JJ laughs quietly, “And don’t drink as much. I’d rather have you sober again.”

“I’m not drunk,” Yuri argues. He frowns to show his disapproval but ends up looking more petulant than indignant.

Lips touch his again, as gentle as the first time, and far too chaste for Yuri’s liking, but JJ meets his every attempt to deepen the kiss with resistance.

The surreality of it leaves Yuri caught between shock and acceptance. One moment, he’s struck by the inevitability of their relationship, and the undeniable attraction between them, one that likely existed long before either of them acknowledged it for what it was. In the next moment, he’s stunned by the unpredictability of it all, that they should both find someone years before, two people who, at the time, seemed so perfect for them both, only to be proven wrong later, when both relationships were left stagnant and broken, leading them here — perhaps not to this very moment, but still, in a way, to one another.

They each have their own reasons for coming back to each other, but those reasons matter far less than the one indisputable fact Yuri can’t seem to banish from his mind.

He _wants_ , wholly and deeply, so much so that it overwhelms his senses, and for one frightening moment his breath is stolen not by the anticipation that sets his heart racing, but by the thought that this affair might end.

That fear ravaged their last moments in Beijing, forced Yuri to make his escape before rejection reared its ugly head. He was jilted once before and he’s still wading through the complicated mess that resulted from it. A second failure might drive him away from romance entirely.

When JJ breaks the kiss and pulls away, Yuri’s instinct this time is to pull him back. Their proximity has lain waste to his emotions, the lack of any contact over the last month has enhanced his impatience, and the wine has decreased his inhibitions enough that running no longer remains an option. Yuri throws his arms around JJ’s neck and refuses to release him, soaking in the warmth of him, the scent of his arousal, secure in the knowledge that JJ does not actually want to leave.

But JJ takes Yuri by the arms and pries him off. He touches Yuri’s face again, smoothing away the disappointment with the tips of his fingers. His lips press a kiss to the furrow between Yuri’s eyes. Then JJ retreats down the hall, and all of Yuri’s tired attempts to pull him back are made in vain. Soon Yuri can’t reach without pushing himself off of the door, which is the only thing currently keeping him upright. He leans against it heavily, watching JJ drift further and further away.

Everything about their relationship is appealing in its familiarity. Not the kissing or the tender touches, which have an appeal of their own, but which, compared to the rest, have been a much more recent development.

It’s JJ’s laughter, and the mirth in his eyes; the sound of his voice rising above the rest; the smell of him, so unmistakable even in a crowd; the very sight of him, dark and handsome against the backdrop of a bland hotel. Those are the things Yuri finds most entrancing. They’ve been a part of his life for so long their absence in recent years left a hole in his spirit, one that shocked him first by its very existence, and then by his own failure to fill it.

Here again — in a different place, but surrounded by all the things that made their rivalry and friendship so utterly predictable — the troublesome parts of their past don’t seem to matter. Yuri can’t help but wonder if there was ever a moment before, years ago when they first met, that could have led them together sooner if they’d paid more attention.

JJ’s scent lingers in the empty hallway. Yuri breathes it in while he has the chance, before JJ leaves and the smell of him fades away. The desire in it is unmistakable. It resonates between them, pulsing stronger with each step JJ takes down the hall. JJ wants as intensely as Yuri wants, but he does nothing about it, simply presses the button for the elevator and waits for it to arrive.

“You son of a bitch,” Yuri calls to him, slumping low with regret — not for his harsh words, but for his earlier reluctance.

He should have turned his head in the elevator, should have pressed closer and given into the instinct that urged him to disregard his reservations.

If there was ever a line between what they’ve been before and what they could be now, it was never a divide.

It was a bridge connecting two winding paths together.

A bark of laughter tears from JJ’s throat just at the elevator doors open. He turns to Yuri before entering, mouth curving up at the corners.

“Sweet dreams,” he says.

He crosses into the elevator, and the doors clothes moments later, carrying him away. Up or down, Yuri doesn’t know; he can’t make out the display from this far away, and he’s much too tired to trip his way down the hall to check. Alone now, the fatigue he’s kept at bay all evening settles over him. He tips his head back and shuts his eyes, allowing himself to mope while the quiet sounds of the elevator slowly cease. Only when there is no denying that JJ has done does Yuri dredge up the last of his energy to turn and unlock the door.

He fumbles with the keycard again, muttering curses under his breath until his third impatient attempt actually works. The door slams shut behind him, earning a belated wince when he remembers Yakov and Lilia in the next room.

Yuri wastes no time with washing up or changing. He throws the bundle of his coat, gloves, and scarf toward his open suitcases, which already spill half their contents onto the floor. His boots drop by the door with two pairs of shoes he hasn’t put away yet. Yuri stumbles into the bathroom long enough to use the toilet, but he deems standing at the sink to brush his teeth too taxing and skips the routine. He kicks his jeans off on the way to bed, plugs his phone into the outlet on the nightstand, then collapses face first onto the mattress and doesn’t move until his alarm rings in the morning.

The day starts with a dull headache and the bubbling of resentment low in his stomach. Yuri languishes in bed, puttering around on his laptop for over half an hour, prepared to spend much of the morning brooding in his room. Spite eventually spurs him out of bed, but by then he has no time for a lengthy shower. He rinses off quickly, and turns to deodorant, body spray, and dry shampoo for the rest. His wan face and sloppy appearance won’t earn him any sympathy from his coaches, but it’s nothing a little makeup and better styling won’t fix later. Yuri leaves his room in his practice clothes, with his hair piled into the biggest mess of a bun he’s ever made.

Lilia fetches him for breakfast, makeup already perfectly applied and every strand of hair in its proper place. She doesn’t comment on his appearance, nor does she say a word about his dalliance with JJ, but her brow arches critically all the same.

Yakov has much less restraint. As soon as Yuri and Lilia join him downstairs, he growls out, “Are you ill?”

“No,” Yuri mumbles tersely.

He sits down with a carton of yogurt and a few pieces of toast with jam from the breakfast buffet. Lilia prepares a cup of tea for him after he neglects to do so himself. Yuri grunts his thanks and ignores the silent looks his coaches exchange across the table.

As soon as he’s done eating, Yuri announces, “I’m changing my exhibition program.”

Neither Yakov nor Lilia appear surprise. This is, after all, not an uncommon development. Yuri has changed his plans for the exhibition skate at the last minute on more occasions than any of them care to count. If anything shocks his coaches, it’s that Yuri made the effort to warn them this time.

“I’m doing Because The Night,” he adds.

“Why on Earth—” Yakov grumbles, but Lilia cuts him off with a warning glare.

They say nothing more about it. Yuri and Yakov spend a few moments scowling at one another, before Yakov eventually relents, muttering something about “willful brats” and “too old for this” under his breath. Lilia sighs and clicks her tongue at them both, but she falls silent and her expression becomes impassive again as soon as she goes back to sipping her tea.

The morning passes quickly despite the restless air influencing much of Yuri’s behavior.

He expects JJ to turn up everywhere, at any moment, whether he’s suitably prepared for the encounter or not. Perhaps he’ll be in the hallway when Yuri returns to his room for his sports bag, or in the lobby when Yuri makes his way out of the hotel. If not, perhaps he’ll be at the arena, hanging around during practice since the combined forces of the ISU, US Figure Skating, and Skate Canada seem content to let him do whatever the fuck he wants. Surely he’ll be grinning and laughing among his adoring fans, who’ll show up anywhere for so much as a glimpse of him, whether he’s competing or not; JJ will see Yuri and wink at him, and Yuri will glower back and punch JJ’s shoulder, because it’s JJ’s fault he’s so agitated, and that bastard probably knows it.

None of those things actually occur. JJ is not in the hall outside Yuri’s room, nor does Yuri spot him in the lobby. He isn’t at the arena either, not outside greeting fans or leaning against the boards watching practice. JJ’s brother and sister arrive shortly after Yuri, and JJ’s parents are frequently within sight, but JJ himself remains conspicuously absent.

_That stupid fucking bastard._

It has to be purposeful. There isn’t a doubt in Yuri’s mind that JJ is using his absence as a way to tease him. For days now, JJ has lingered everywhere Yuri turned when all Yuri wanted was to avoid him, and now that Yuri actually _wants_ him around, JJ is nowhere to be seen.

Disappointment settles over Yuri, as deep and all-consuming as the desire he experienced the night before. The weight of it is so massive, Yuri slumps onto a bench as though crushed, wallowing in his own self-pity, yearning for the quiet and isolation of his hotel room.

At least until anger and disgust swoop back in.

He conducts a brief warmup off the ice before sitting down to tie his skates. At that very moment, his phone vibrates in his pocket. The text he finds waiting for him does nothing to ease his frustration.

> **JJ:**  
>  Good morning sweetpea

Yuri glares at the screen and contemplates a response, watching the ellipses appear as JJ continues to type.

> **JJ:**  
>  Hope you slept well

“Fuck you, shithead,” Yuri swears.

> **JJ:**  
>  Can’t wait to watch you skate later today ;D

A soft, aggravated sound vibrates up Yuri’s throat. He mutters, “I’ll bet you can’t, you obnoxious prick.”

Yuri doesn’t answer. He won’t let himself be dragged into another one of JJ’s stupid games. The second he texts something back, JJ will flirt and tease, and Yuri — either in a moment of anger, weakness, or insanity — will fall right into whatever trap JJ plans to set.

No, Yuri has a better idea. He’ll keep JJ waiting, let him pine for a response and grow frustrated when he doesn’t get one. He can sit around all day checking his phone, becoming more and more disappointed each time he notices the lack of an answer. Maybe JJ will get anxious. Maybe he’ll worry he’s taken the teasing to far and find Yuri at the arena again. Maybe he’ll drop this bullshit and come grovel. Yuri already knows what JJ wants, and he knows JJ thinks he’s going to get it; Yuri won’t lie and pretend he has no intention of giving in to JJ when the time comes, but that doesn’t mean he has to make it easy.

If JJ wants to play, then fine, they can play. The only difference this time is that Yuri aims to be the one making the rules.

He shoves his phone back into the pocket of his team jacket, which he discards before heading out onto the ice.

Practice proves to be a sufficient enough distraction, though it isn’t particularly strenuous. Nothing can ever compare to the stress and excitement of competition, not even those few instances when he’s completely scrapped an exhibition piece and started from scratch the night before. Nevertheless, the morning practice session offers him the opportunity to work out some of his frustrations in a way that doesn’t involve sending a series of hostile text messages, or chucking his phone at the wall.

When Yuri breaks for water nearly an hour later, JJ’s sister comes to lean against the boards. Her scent wafts over before he catches sight of her — a cloud of bright amusement over the underlying sweetness Yuri always associates with other omegas.

“You’re weirdly intense today,” she observes.

Yuri lifts his gaze to glare at her, guzzling more of his drink instead of responding.

Sophie Leroy should be annoying simply on account of being JJ’s sister, but after spending a fair bit of time in her company as part of Mila’s “squad,” Yuri has been forced to admit that she’s usually a tolerable acquaintance even if he can’t claim to know her well.

She resembles her mother more than her father, except that she’s naturally dark haired, and perpetually tan even in the dead of winter. Her hair changes every season, either with a new style or a different color. She’s settled on a dark blonde this year — a bit of a dull, understated look compared to the deep plum purple from last season, but it suits her just as well, long and wave in a ponytail; it probably stands out more among all the black haired and redheaded Leroys. She’s tall for the ladies’ division, and thin like Yuri, with olive eyes and a round face.

Rather like JJ’s daughter, Sophie’s resemblance to her oldest brother is at its most unmistakable when she smiles. Otherwise, on certain occasions, Yuri can forget they’re related at all. More than anything, he appreciates Sophie’s irreverent approach to her oldest brother. While JJ’s wife put effort into stoking his ego, and Nathalie and Alain treat JJ as if he is a blessing not just to them, but to the entire world, Sophie’s snide attitude has been a breath of fresh air. Even after she became friends with Mila, Yuri never would have given her the time of day if the first words he heard her speak to JJ hadn’t been “ugh, wipe that smug look off of your face” and “go away, you’re being a massive dick.”

So when she slides a little closer and says, “You need to get laid, Plisetsky,” Yuri resists the urge to shove her away.

“Tell JJ to stop being a prick and maybe I will,” he snaps back.

He expects surprise in return, or for her to be amused by the implication, but neither of the two happen. Her eyes don’t widen. She doesn’t snort a laugh and say “ha ha, very funny” like she thinks he’s joking around. She blinks a few times and stares at him with a straight face, then sags against the boards in relief.

“Oh my _God_ ,” she says. “Did he finally tell you about the thing I had to swear not to talk about with anyone?”

“You mean his wife?”

“ _Yes_. Oh my _God_.” She drops her face into her hands and whimpers. “It’s been _months_. I felt like I was going to die. No one in my family wants to talk about Bella anymore. Except Charlie, but there’s only so many times I can bitch to Charlie about it before it starts losing its effect.”

Yuri stands frozen with his bottle of water nearly at his mouth. “And you already know about me and JJ?”

Sophie hauls herself back up and scoffs in a way that means he’s an idiot for even asking. “My entire family knows about you and JJ.”

“ _What_?!”

“Maddie saw you sneak off together at the Olympics.”

Yuri whips around to search for Madelyn Tremblay, a Canadian pair skater who happens to be partnered with _and_ engaged to JJ’s younger brother. He spots her standing outside the rink, at the end furthest away from Yuri and Sophie, chatting with her fiancé and a skating pair from Japan.

“Re _lax_ ,” Sophie says, exaggerating the second syllable more than necessary. “She’s not gonna announce it to the world.”

Based on what little Yuri knows about quiet and polite Maddie Tremblay, Sophie probably isn’t wrong. That doesn’t mean he won’t continue to shoot Maddie the occasional suspicious look when he’s feeling wary about being exposed.

“ _Anyway_ ,” Sophie stresses the word hard enough to pull Yuri’s attention back to her. “Obviously Maddie told Charlie and Charlie told me, and of course _I_ confronted JJ about it, because apparently I’m the only one with the balls. Don’t worry, everyone’s totally okay with it. Honestly, JJ deserves some really great sex after Bella sprung the whole ‘ _this isn’t what I want_ ’ shit on him completely out of nowhere.”

“And by ‘ _everyone_ ,’ you mean…?”

“Literally everyone. Mom. Papa. All of our brothers and sisters. My aunts and uncles. Probably every last one of our cousins by now. Oh, and our grandmother, too.”

“You just said Maddie wouldn’t tell anyone,” Yuri complains.

“She didn’t. _I_ did.”

Yuri almost reconsiders his decision not to shove Sophie out of his face. He glares darkly and says, “What the _fuck_.”

Sophie rolls her eyes. “What? JJ’s energy goes all over the place when he hasn’t gotten laid recently. You really should have dropped by over the summer. He got so obnoxious after Mila and Sara’s wedding. I’m talking old school, overcompensating-because-I’m-dying-to-fuck-my-girlfriend JJ. It was disgusting.”

Yuri scoffs and gulps down more water.

“I got sick of it. Told him he should call you up again. We were at a family gathering at the time. Cue the shock and awe.”

“You’re a bitch and I hate you,” Yuri seethes.

“You mean like you _hate_ JJ?” she mocks him, mouth curving into a wide Leroy grin. “I always knew you were full of shit. No one spends that much energy on someone they claim to hate.”

“Fuck off.”

“But everyone’s so happy,” Sophie argues with a teasing lilt in her voice. “Especially Mom. She’s been really upset ever since JJ and Bella fell apart. You should’ve seen her when she realized you were suddenly a thing. She got all emotional about her sweet baby JJ moving on and finding love again.”

“We’re not—”

“Oh my _God_ , I _know_ it’s just a fling right now. Loosen up. Let Mom hope. You’re lucky JJ already told her to back off and give you space, otherwise she’d probably be thanking you and welcoming you to the family.”

With a quick sweep of his eyes around the rink, Yuri searches for any sign of Nathalie Leroy. Fortunately, she’s nowhere to be seen and he’s left massaging the heel of his palm over his forehead, at once frustrated and relieved.

Sophie leans farther over the boards. Her grin disappears, expression creasing with desperation. “ _Please_ fuck him again. If he gets obnoxious over Christmas, I might actually kill him this time.”

“Not my problem,” Yuri says.

“You say that now, but let’s be real, you’re obviously horny and desperate for it, so the second JJ whips his dick out, you’re going to be gagging all over it.”

Yuri flings his water at her, aiming right for her face. Sophie shrieks with laughter and fumbles to catch it, but it smacks against her shoulder and falls to the floor on the other side of the boards. 

Skating away, Yuri throws himself back into the practice. Clearly he’s been wrong about Sophie all these years. She proves to be every bit her brother’s sister. Her voice and her laughter are always there, loud and grating in the back of his head. Every word she says cuts through his concentration. He wouldn’t normally pay so much attention to her, but he no longer trusts her to keep her mouth shut. If he ignores her too much, there’s a chance she’ll say something for everyone to overhear.

His frazzled mood does not go unnoticed and there are eyes on him for the duration of practice. His scent gives him away even when Yuri manages to school his expression into something resembling indifference — a skill he can attribute to years under Lilia’s tutelage. Resentment rolls off of him in waves. By the quiet snickering he manages to overhear, Yuri assumes many of his peers are well aware that some of his frustration is sexual in nature.

They break for lunch, with the exhibition to follow early in the afternoon. Yuri snacks instead of eating a full meal, munching on some baby carrots in between sips of water, and because he has absolutely no desire to let himself be cornered by either of his coaches, he doesn’t tell Sophie to fuck off when she decides to hang around and talk his ear off.

At least she stops mocking him, choosing instead to treat him like they’ve been best friends since birth. Yuri might resent the change in their dynamic, except that it means he gets to hear her complain about Isabella.

“She _never_ should have gotten pregnant,” Sophie rants. “I’ve been telling Charlie that since Bella and JJ started trying, but he was always, like, ‘Noooooo,’” she lowers her voice to imitate her brother’s tone, “‘don’t say that to JJ. You’ll upset him.’ What-the-fuck-ever. I kept my mouth shut and look what happened.”

Yuri hums in agreement. He learned a long time ago that when Sophie gets going with a rant, it’s easier to let her talk herself out than it is to try cutting her off. At least this time he’s actually somewhat intrigued by the subject. He always assumed Isabella was widely accepted among the Leroys.

“I’m not saying she’s a shit person, because she _was_ really good to JJ for a long time, but I also never thought she was mom material. I mean, just judging by her friends back home. They’re all the type of people who treat their kids like cute accessories. They like to cart their babies around and show them off like they do with their miniature dogs, but when it comes to dealing with any of the hard stuff, they’re always like, ‘ _oh, woe is me_!’ You know?”

Yuri does not know, but he nods along anyway.

“Most of the time they’re just looking for someone to tell them how awesome they are. These are also the same people who let their kids behave like fucking monsters in public while they stand there like, ‘ _oh, look at my sweet Ava, isn’t she so cute_?’ Then they get offended when other people don’t have the patience to deal with their destructive brats.”

Sophie huffs and pauses to shove a handful of nuts and dried fruit into her face. “Anyway, Bella’s one of those people everyone looks at and thinks she’s got her entire life together, but deep down she’s actually a huge fucking mess.”

Yuri rolls his eyes. “That much is obvious.”

“Kind of like you,” Sophie adds. Her grin widens when Yuri chokes on a swig of water.

Yuri coughs to clear his airways and meets Sophie with another glare. “Don’t compare me to that stuck up bitch.”

“You’re right. You’re actually more of a mess than she is, because you suck at hiding it. God, JJ _clearly_ has a type.”

Yuri snarls at her, gearing up to launch into a rant of his own when his phone vibrates against the table between them, effectively cutting him off. He flips it over to check the notification, only to see that JJ has sent him another text.

> **JJ:**  
>  Busy morning?

Fuming, Yuri slams his phone back down and aggressively bites into a baby carrot.

Sophie snorts. “Who just pissed in your corn flakes?

“Who do you think?”

“Could be anyone, knowing you.” She leans over the table to turn his phone on, eyeing the notification still waiting there. “Is that JJ being nice or JJ being a prick?”

“Being a prick,” Yuri grumbles.

“What’s he doing?”

“Taunting me because I wanted to fuck last night, but he decided we should wait until tonight instead.”

Yuri neglects to mention that he was tipsy and exhausted at the time. That never stopped JJ before. Even if he was trying to be considerate this time, it wasn’t his call to make, was it? Whatever the case, the teasing won’t earn him any favors.

“Let me see,” Sophie demands.

Though there isn’t much to show, Yuri unlocks his phone for her perusal. Sophie scans the four most recent texts and rolls her eyes. Her brow furrows briefly, then the tension eases out of her face and her mouth twists into a smirk, eyes locking onto Yuri with maniacal zeal.

“Okay, this is what’s going to happen,” she says, shoving his phone back at him. “You’re not going to text him back. You’re going to go out there and skate whatever slutty program you have up your sleeve.”

“I’m not—”

“Shut up. You’ve been doing slutty programs since you were fifteen. Don’t even try to act coy about it now.”

Yuri glowers but shuts his mouth around a caustic response. “Welcome to the Madness” wasn’t _meant_ to be “slutty.” It was anger and frustration and, okay, _yes_ , he’d wanted it to be shocking and memorable, and it was, but the sexiness of it wasn’t entirely intentional — more a spur of the moment, “Be my friend and help me outdo Viktor and Katsudon with this idea I just impulsively pulled out of my ass at the last second” kind of thing. It was badass and he’s still proud of it, even if he does occasionally cringe when he rewatches the footage of his short, scrawny fifteen-year-old self sliding around the ice. Unfortunately, he can’t think of anything to say that Sophie won’t twist around or contradict, so he lets her continue.

“JJ’s going to keep texting you all day, and then he’s probably going to get a little sad and mopey because he won’t be getting the attention he wants. You’re going to go back to your room after the exhibition and clean yourself up, because I’m sorry — no, actually, I’m not sorry at all — you look like a hot mess right now.”

Unable to deny that either, Yuri bites into another carrot, chewing moodily.

“I hope you have something decent to wear tonight.” Sophie pauses, eyeing him with a disapproving frown. “You know, you model all the time, and you’ve been around trendy people like Mila and Viktor for years, but some of your fashion choices have been kind of awful.”

“Will you just finish whatever it is you’re trying to say?” Yuri snaps.

Sophie rolls her eyes and sighs. “ _Fine_. Provided you _do_ have something decent to wear, you’re going to show up at the banquet looking so gorgeous, JJ will get handsy and make it totally obvious to everyone that he’s into you. Which he is, by the way. I haven’t seen him this into someone since—”

“ _Sophie_.”

“Fine, jeez, chill out. You, gorgeous. JJ, handsy. Then he’s going to try playing it cool and distract himself with food and drink and conversation. You’re going to hang out with me and my friends and act like you’re having a good time. Eventually he’ll get impatient, and he’ll ask you if you’re ready to go, but no, you’re not, you’re in the middle of talking about whatever and he’s going to have to wait. _You will make him wait until the banquet is over_.”

Sophie lurches halfway across the table, hanging over top of it with her weight on her forearms, staring intently into Yuri’s eyes. Yuri almost shrinks back in surprise but manages to fist his hands around his bottle of water and bag of carrots to root himself in place. The last thing he needs is Sophie Leroy coming to the mistaken conclusion that he’s intimidated by her.

“You will make him wait so long, we’ll be some of the last people to leave,” she continues. “He’ll get obnoxiously chivalrous. Like, even more than he already is. You’ll let him, because I’m pretty sure it turns him on, and you want him so turned on he starts fumbling around like an idiot.”

Yuri slowly nods along, even if he’s never seen JJ fumble around and can’t imagine such a thing would be possible. The nodding works, at least, because Sophie settles back into her chair. Her eyes lose just enough ferocity that she no longer looks insane.

“He’ll get handsy again when we start heading back to the hotel. Then I’ll ask you two if you want to go out for a few more drinks.”

“I don’t want—”

“No shit, Sherlock, that’s not the point. The point is, you’ll leave the decision up to him. He won’t know what to do. He’ll probably gape like a fish for a while and have no idea what to say, because what he’ll _really_ want to say is, ‘I’m literally dying to fuck you right now,’ but he’s too much of a gentleman to say anything like that around other people.”

“What? That’s bullshit. He’s said worse—”

“Excuse me, which one of us knows JJ better?”

Yuri reaches across the table to whack her with his bag of carrots. “Fine. What if he agrees to go for more drinks?”

Sophie scoffs and flicks her hand dismissively. “He won’t, trust me. You’ll leave him hanging for a few seconds, then you’ll make some excuse about being too tired to go out and we’ll all go our separate ways. You’d better fuck him good after that, because I swear to God if he’s an obnoxious dick over Christmas, you’ll never see him again.”

“And why the fuck should I do this?”

“Because he won’t pull this kind of bullshit again,” Sophie says with authority. “You’ll have him wrapped around your finger for the rest of your life. Or however long this fling lasts. He’s seriously into you, though, so I vote for the rest of your life.”

Sophie rambles on, but Yuri tunes her out as soon as she starts in on “you know, aside from being a hot mess, you really _aren’t_ JJ’s usual type,” because he doesn’t care _what_ JJ’s “usual type” is (conceited bitches, if Yuri had to take a guess). He’s already too busy internally debating what “seriously into you” means.

He would ask, but he can’t let Sophie think he’s interested. He might not even be comfortable knowing the answer himself.

Does he want to date JJ? That question has been floating around in the back of his head since Guang Hong brought up the possibility last night. Yuri didn’t let it take root until after JJ was done explaining himself, but now there it’s _there_ , he can’t ignore it. It used to seem like the most ridiculous idea in the world. In what universe would he and JJ ever date? But with JJ’s hand on his, and with desire so obvious between them, it was easy to imagine what it might be like. Memory took him back to that morning in Beijing, waking up with JJ’s arm around him.

As far as Yuri can tell, dating is exactly what JJ wants. He wanted romance before. He wanted soft, slow sex. Unless Yuri has completely misread the signals. He can’t even say for certain what signals he should be looking for. The only conversation he’s had with anyone about possibly dating was the “let’s not make this complicated” conversation with Otabek. JJ didn’t bring it up last night, but maybe he assumed he didn’t need to. Maybe he thought they were on the same page.

Are they? 

They’re certainly not dating _now_ , not after Yuri put so much effort into maintaining some distance between them. But could they? Wouldn’t it be difficult? Yuri wasn’t excited about the idea of a long-distance relationship three years ago. Or did he allow himself to be influenced by Otabek? If JJ made the case for it, would things be different? Could Yuri be convinced?

No. Or perhaps the real answer is that he doesn’t _want_ to be convinced. Dating seems stupid and complicated under normal circumstances. Wouldn’t it be even _more_ stupid and complicated when JJ still has all this shit going on with his wife? They’re not divorced yet. Even if it was a mutual decision, it could still get messy, especially once Isabella finds out Yuri’s been with JJ in the meantime. Plus, JJ has a life far away in Montreal that has nothing to do with Yuri, and Yuri has a life far away in Saint Petersburg that, sure, isn’t going anywhere right now, but it _could_. He’s put a lot of thought into his career lately, and once he actually lets himself decide what he wants to do about having a baby, there won’t be any room in his life for more complications.

Why would he want to date JJ in the first place? If Yuri isn’t _JJ’s_ “usual type,” then JJ certainly isn’t _his_.

But they get along relatively well these days, and the attraction is obviously there…

It might be nice, wouldn’t it? To indulge for a while?

Perhaps the easiest way to come to an answer would be to ask himself whether or not he would be content to sit back and watch JJ date other people. Because as things stand now, there’s nothing to stop JJ from doing that. JJ did seem to thrive years ago, back when his relationship with Isabella was new.

No. Yuri won’t tolerate that. He did that before, sharing Otabek’s time and attention, all the while pretending he wasn’t constantly disappointed by it. The jealousy never grew out of control, but it still ate at him. He can’t put himself in that position again.

No, he doesn’t have the patience for dating, and no, he doesn’t want JJ seeing other people.

So where does that leave them?

Yuri parts ways with Sophie once their lunch break ends. He escapes to finish preparations for the exhibition, hunting down Yakov and Lilia to make sure they’ve handled the change in music. Satisfied that everything is in order, Yuri changes into the costume he would have worn for his original exhibition piece.

The tight, heavily distressed bottoms and loose tank top work just as well for what he wants to do now. He takes the time to tie his hair into a more artful messy bun, then fusses with his face until he manages to convince himself he doesn’t look awful. The haggard, pale, “I didn’t get a lot of sleep last night” look is on theme enough that he doesn’t waste too much time trying to cover it up. He evens out some of the blotchiness, then lines his eyes and takes some mascara to his lashes. The style is familiar enough in its simplicity that nothing about what he has planned will seem out of character.

Not that he has much of a plan. He’s operating entirely on a whim, because he woke up angry and frustrated and, yeah, he _is_ kind of horny, and it’s all JJ’s fault, so obviously he has to show that bastard _exactly_ what he missed out on last night. If he thought it through more, Yuri might stick to his original program, but he’s distracted enough that he doesn’t consider the possibility that his intent might be misconstrued, and he’s bitter enough that, if anyone reads too far into it, he probably won’t give a shit until later.

Time passes quickly once the exhibition finally begins. Yuri hangs around with the other skaters backstage. Sophie and Emil try to chat his ears off, but they’re both more than capable of holding an entire conversation with very little input from him, so Yuri doesn’t have to say much. Every once in a while, Yuri shoots a suspicious look in the direction of Maddie Tremblay and JJ’s younger brother Charlie, but he never catches Charlie looking his way, and the one time he makes awkward eye contact with Maddie, she just smiles shyly and flaps her hand in a little wave.

Yuri watches a few of the more amusing performances, but when he isn’t trapped in one conversation or another, he spends most of his time running through his program off the ice. 

Two more messages come through just before he’s set to perform. Unsurprisingly, they’re both from JJ.

The first is a selfie of JJ, Micky, Guang Hong, Leo, and baby Luna sitting in the audience together. The second is another text.

> **JJ:**  
>  All eyes on you babydoll

JJ’s _there_ , and he’s grinning widely, with a discerning gleam in his eyes like he _knows_.

Yuri squeezes his phone hard enough that the plastic case creaks. He discards it, stripping himself of his team jacket and his hoodie, and pushes passed Sophie, ignoring her complaints. “You’re supposed to look fuckable, not murderous!”

He stalks more than he skates out onto the ice. After briefly acknowledging the cheering audience, Yuri takes his starting position, glaring at nothing in particular, but imagining JJ’s grinning face within punching distance.

A hush falls over the crowd when the music starts. A ripple of confusion travels through the stands, but it lingers only until Yuri begins to skate, which seems to be the moment they realize there wasn’t a mistake in the music. A loud, piercing half-scream half-cheer erupts from the section of the crowd that can only be Angels — as animated as they always are whenever he skates something new.

What they don’t know is that “Because the Night” isn’t exactly _new_. True, he’s only ever skated it in practice, so few people have actually seen it, but he’s has it in his repertoire for over a year now. Like most of his exhibition programs since “Welcome to the Madness,” he choreographed this himself, tinkering with it obsessively in the months leading up to the Olympics, where he meant to introduce it. Being an exhibition piece, there’s nothing truly difficult about it; he’s reserved with his jumps and showcases more of his spins, choreography, and footwork, but he wanted to show the world something new and exciting after winning Olympic gold. It was supposed to be a special treat for his fans, even if there was a second, secret motive urging him on, too.

He’s ashamed to admit how heavily some of his programs have been influenced by his feelings for Otabek. Of all the things Yuri never wanted to be, a silly omega pining for the attention of an alpha was chief among them. Yet there have been several occasions over the last four years in which he has been exactly that.

When Otabek spent the season leading up to the Olympics waffling over whether or not he wanted to retire from competition, of course Yuri had mixed feelings about it. On the one hand, he dreaded the idea that another one of his friends — his _best_ friend — was on the verge of retirement. But then those insidious fantasies took hold, and he realized how much potential there was in Otabek’s retirement. Their relationship could evolve in a way that never would have occurred while they lived in different countries, training and traveling at the mercy of competitive schedules.

Yuri meant for this program to be a declaration. _“We can do this together now,”_ he wanted to say. _“If you retire, we can make this work. And if you don’t, we can still try. Don’t you see I want to try?”_

Ultimately, it was a program born from Yuri’s delusions — all those stupid hopes and dreams he carried in the back of his head, the ones he never fully acknowledged until they were well and truly dashed.

Things with Otabek were doomed from the start. Yuri knows that now. The more he thinks about it, he’s probably known it since he was nineteen, when he sat through the “let’s just keep things casual” conversation and realized it would never be casual for him. Yet, despite everything he knew, he still let his fantasies escalate, because it was _so_ easy to give into them, and there were so many moments when it felt _so_ right.

By day, Yuri satisfied himself with things as they were. Casual and often spontaneous, he and Otabek built a friendship based on mutual respect and common interests. It was by night that things became more complicated, after the Skype calls ended and the text messages dwindled, when Yuri sat curled up in his lonely apartment with no one but Potya for company, allowing his loneliness to combine with fond memories of his friend and shape his thoughts for the future.

Yuri took gold at the Olympics. Otabek stood on the podium beside him with silver around his neck, smile brighter than Yuri has ever seen, proud to have earned one more medal for his country before age could catch up with him. Even so, it wasn’t enough to keep Otabek invested for another season. Twenty-five and tired, and wary of aggravating old injuries, Otabek made his decision that night.

“So then what changes with us?” Yuri asked him.

Otabek shrugged. He _shrugged_ , as if he hadn’t given it any thought at all. And Yuri knew it was true, that if Otabek ever considered anything more between them, it was only more of the same. Yuri was left numb and tired; he admitted defeat as soon as Otabek said, “Why would anything change?”

Yuri couldn’t find an appropriate answer.

Occasionally, he wonders if Otabek knows, or if he’s been completely ignorant to Yuri’s feelings all this time. Yuri would like to give him the benefit of the doubt. Otabek is his _friend_. Otabek cares about him; he’s looked out for Yuri since the day they met in Barcelona. Surely he would have eased back on their relationship if he suspected how Yuri felt. He wouldn’t have led Yuri on like that.

But could Otabek really be _that_ oblivious? He _has_ to know. The way he looks at Yuri sometimes, solemn and remorseful, seems to indicate that he’s had his suspicions. Yet he’s said nothing. He’s _done_ nothing. He left Yuri hanging in limbo, waiting for a sign, feeding off the scraps of affection Otabek gave him when he was bored or horny.

Otabek was wrong about one thing, at least. _Everything_ changed. Yuri finally took Otabek’s lack of enthusiasm to heart, and he began the slow, painful process of putting all those stupid fantasies to rest.

They celebrated with the other athletes that week. They laughed and danced and drank, and they fell into bed with different people — Yuri with JJ, and Otabek with some other pretty omega Yuri can’t even find it in himself to be jealous of anymore. Yuri discarded his new exhibition program as a lost cause. It wasn’t worth putting his heart out there when he knew what the end results would be.

He skates it now with renewed energy, and with a different purpose, too. JJ is not Otabek, and Yuri’s feelings for him will never be the same. He isn’t entirely sure what those feelings are — they’re all mixed up with passion and annoyance and regret and selfishness, difficult to untangle and impossible to interpret until he does — but pretending he doesn’t feel anything would be preposterous. He wouldn’t waste so much of his time and energy considering the possibilities and the finer details if he felt nothing at all.

He wouldn’t have run from Beijing if there wasn’t anything to run from.

But the dissimilarities are so glaring, Yuri could be skating an entirely different program. Whatever happens now — whether or not his feelings change and grow; if they deepen, or fizzle into nonexistence — his relationship with JJ won’t be like his relationship with Otabek. If one good thing came from heartache and disappointment, it’s that Yuri is much more aware of what he wants out of a relationship. All that “meant to be” bullshit about “true love” and “soulmates” interests him far less that something stable with someone loyal, a relationship with clear intentions and set boundaries he doesn’t have to question.

 _“I’m not going to pine for you,”_ he wants to say. He did that before. It was humiliating and exhausting. He doesn’t have the energy to do it again. _“I don’t want to fool myself into believing this is something real if it’s not. Tell me what this is. Tell me what we’re doing. I don’t know what I want. Help me decide.”_

 _“I’m not going to play your stupid games.”_ He barely had the patience for it before. He has even less now that he has some idea of which direction he’d like to steer his life toward. _“You either want me or you don’t. Tell me now. Don’t fuck with me. If this is what you want, come and take it.”_

 _“Let go of your wife.”_ How can Yuri be anything but hesitant when JJ’s ring is always there, a taunting reminder of what JJ and Isabella used to be? _“I’m not going to compete with her. If you want me, then want me. Commit to me. Put her behind you. I’m not_ her _. I’m not going to_ be _her. Give me a reason to believe you want this, and I won’t run.”_

Perhaps it isn’t the best way for Yuri to address his feelings. These issues should be discussed at length and brought to a necessary conclusion. But this has always been how Yuri works through the mess in his head — with loud music and energy. 

He could not have left Beijing without either demanding that JJ make a choice, or breaking away and saving himself from what, at that point, seemed like inevitable heartache. Similarly, he can’t leave Colorado Springs without making it clear that he wants every stupid part of this — the sex, the attention, the hand holding, all the ridiculous pet names that should make him sick; the way JJ looks at him, talks to him, touches him, kisses him; the way it feels to be wanted, again and again, without the distance or the detachment that always followed his flings with Otabek.

Now the program is a cry for helped wrapped up in a “fuck you,” a “help me understand what this is” inside of an “I’m better than your wife, so stop being a prick and fuck me already.” It’s a question and a declaration no one but he and JJ will understand — except, maybe, the ones they leave behind.

 _“Fuck you, bitch,”_ he would say to Isabella. _“I’m fucking your husband and there’s not a damned thing you can do about it.”_

 _“Fuck you, asshole,”_ he would say to Otabek. _“Fuck you for toying with me. Fuck you for letting me_ believe _.”_

It isn’t seductive. It’s loud and intense and as in-your-face as people have come to expect from Yuri. It’s nothing like what Sophie would have wanted him to do, but Yuri didn’t end up in bed with JJ by acting coy and flirty. If JJ wanted that, he would have gone after someone else. This kind of brazen display is what JJ has known of Yuri since Yuri was fifteen. JJ liked it enough to flirt when he should have kept his mouth shut and stuck to flirting with his wife. There’s no reason why JJ shouldn’t like it now.

Throughout the entire program, from start to finish, there isn’t a doubt in Yuri’s mind that he’s left JJ completely spellbound. He has no idea where JJ is in the stands, but when Yuri ends the program with his left fist held aloft, exposing the tattoo on his wrist, he knows JJ’s eyes will be drawn right to it.

The Angels scream. The rest of the audience claps and cheers. Yuri takes his time soaking it in, bowing and waving while the noise fades beneath his own pounding heartbeat.

Sophie scowls at him when he steps off the ice. She rolls her eyes and shakes her head like he’s just fucked everything up.

“You want him to fuck you, not cower in fear,” she says.

Yuri ignores her and gulps down more water. In the time it takes to swallow, Emil asks, “Who are you fucking?”

For a split second, Yuru considers not saying anything. Or he could deny it, brush off Emil’s question and pretend Sophie’s just saying shit to give him a hard time. There’s no telling who might overhear. As far as Yuri is concerned, no one has any right to even the most minor details about his private life unless he decides to share it with them. Not Sophie, or anyone else from JJ’s family. Not Emil, or any of their other friends. Yuri never discussed Otabek with anyone if he could help it; he doesn’t truly care to talk about JJ with many of them yet either. When he and JJ haven’t even determined what they are to one another, would it be wise to announce it?

What if they still aren’t _anything_?

What if JJ doesn’t _want_ to be anything?

He wouldn’t come all the way here if he didn’t, would he?

The silence and the secrecy haven’t served Yuri well so far. If anything, they’ve done nothing but create more frustration and confusion.

“JJ,” Yuri says — quietly enough that his voice won’t travel far, yet in the same purposeful tone he used when he snapped it at Sophie earlier.

Maybe this is too fast. Maybe he shouldn’t acknowledge it so soon. Maybe he should be more careful and wait until he and JJ have had the chance to discuss it. Maybe he should give more consideration to the drama that will surely unfold as soon as their relationship becomes common knowledge.

Is this resignation or impulsivity? Both? Just yesterday, Yuri would have done anything to avoid this. In the span of twenty-four hours, he’s gone from refusing to talk about the relationship at all to very bluntly revealing it to two people on two separate occasions. Granted, Sophie seems capable of keeping it within the family, and Emil has never been the type to cruelly gossip about his friends. There likely isn’t much danger in either of them knowing, certainly not when Mila, Guang Hong, and Lilia already know.

More than anything, this is a test. He’s experimenting with it, like the hand-holding last night — playing with the idea of exposing the relationship, sharing it first with those he knows to be safe. Just like the hand-holding, there’s something about uttering JJ’s name that doesn’t feel wrong.

It becomes real when he says it, when he watches realization dawn on Emil.

Emil goes wide-eyed and slack jawed as Yuri stares him down, daring him to say something intrusive or rude. At first, all Emil can get out is, “Wait, really?”

Yuri shrugs. The rest of the skaters are closing in, preparing to head out onto the ice for the finale.

Emil’s shock passes quickly. Soon, he’s showing Yuri one of his wide, supportive grins. “I always thought you’d make a good couple.”

Yuri chokes on his water and descends into another coughing fit. Whatever the last ten months might have revealed to him about his feelings, how could anyone else ever think he and JJ would make a good couple?

“We’re not—” he croaks.

Sophie cuts him off with a glare, snapping, “Oh my God, shut _up_. You want him. He wants you. You’re going to fuck tonight, and then you’re going to keep fucking because JJ’s familiar to you and you tolerate him enough that you might actually like him despite the fact that he’s an obnoxious dick sometimes. _You’re a couple_. Save yourself some stress and get the fuck over it.”

Struck dumb, Yuri can’t decide whether he’s more offended by the insinuation or by her tone.

He has no chance to argue. Yuri joins the other skaters on the ice and faces the rest of the exhibition with the same burning impatience he suffered during practice.

His thoughts are consumed by the image of JJ in the audience. They’ll fuck tonight for sure; they could have been fucking all along if Yuri wasn’t such an idiot. Yuri’s memories overwhelm him, from the first time they met to the press of JJ’s lips against his own last night. He considers their future, murky though it is right now, and what might become of them months from now — or years, if Yuri cares to dream that far.

Should he walk away again while he has the chance, before he’s in too deep and can no longer pull himself free without a significant amount of pain? Or should he let things unfold as they are? Will he regret it if he does? Will he regret it if he _doesn’t_? How is he to know what the right answer is when so little of it makes sense?

The questions go around and around his head. _“What do I want from this? Where is this going? Why does any of it matter? When did things change?”_

He has so few answers, and no clue how to go about finding any of them them except to wait for the confusion to fade away.

Once they’ve all lined up and bowed, taken laps around the rink to acknowledge their fans, and posed together for photographs, Yuri finally returns to his phone. The flood of messages waiting for him are no more or less than he would have expected.

He knows what they’ll say because he knows JJ.

And that’s just as comforting as JJ’s foot beneath the table, or JJ’s hand on his thigh, or JJ’s fingers around his wrist. When everything around Yuri seems to be changing at a rapid pace, JJ remains the one constant — a smug bastard and a pestering tease.

> **JJ:**  
>  What was that???????  
>  Hot  
>  It was hot  
>  And new  
>  When did you throw that together??????  
>  I’m literally dying right now  
>  I need an encore  
>  Was that because you’re pissed off????  
>  You know you’re hot when you’re pissed off

Sophie appears next to Yuri and glances at the screen. She scoffs and says, “ _God_ , he’s so fucking weird. And _so_ embarrassing.”

She withdraws to remove her skates, and Yuri has a brief moment of solitude. Again, he asks himself, _“Is this what I want?”_

Yes, he decides.

Yes, this is what he wants.

Yuri tucks his phone away. He has to bite his lip and twist his mouth to the side to stop himself from smirking.

* * *

[A short clip from Yuri’s exhibition skate as filmed from the audience. The music is occasionally drowned out by the sound of screaming Angels.]

**62,728 likes**

**Jjleroy!15** Yeah I’m kind of a fan. @yuri_plisetsky still killing it #gpf2022 #coloradosprings #rivals #friends #frenemy #gold #winner #thisboyisonfire 

 **mila-babicheva** Ugh I wish I was there. I’m missing so much  
**yuri_plisetsky** @mila-babicheva Suck it hag  
**mila-babicheva** @yuri_plisetsky We need to talk  
**sophie-leroy00** @mila-babicheva @yuri_plisetsky :|  
**mila-babicheva** @yuri_plisetsky @sophie-leroy00 OMG YOU KNOW TOO????  
**sophie-leroy00** @yuri_plisetsky @mila-babicheva I have so much quality gossip you have no idea  
**mila-babicheva** @yuri_plisetsky @sophie-leroy00 Omg yesssssssss facetime me later!!!!!  
**yuri_plisetsky** @sophie-leroy00 @mila-babicheva I wish you’d all shut the fuck up  
**phichit+chu** Does anyone else feel weirdly proud whenever Yuri owns the ice like this????  
**christophe-gc** @phichit+chu We raised him from a sweet kitten into a fierce tiger  
**yuri_plisetsky** @phichit+chu @christophe-gc Rawr  
**yuri_plisetsky** @phichit+chu @christophe-gc Also I raised myself and I hate you both  
**v-nikiforov** @phichit+chu +christophe-gc @yuri_plisetsky He’s still a sweet kitten  
**yuri_plisetsky** @phichit+chu @christophe-gc @v-nikiforov Fuck right off Viktor  
**+guanghongji+** IT WAS SO AWESOME AHHHHHHHHHHHHH MY DUMB BOO  
**yuri_plisetsky** @+guanghongji+ How am I dumb???????  
**+guanghongji+** @yuri_plisetsky Pretty sure I don’t need to answer that

DECEMBER 11

* * *

By the time Yuri and Emil meet up with Guang Hong, Leo, and Mickey at the hotel, JJ has parted ways with them.

Yuri can’t pretend to be surprised, though a part of him drowns in disappointment all the same. On his way out of the arena, he briefly entertained the idea that JJ might be prepared to put an end to his bullshit and come beg for Yuri’s attention. He even left his costume on, assuming the amount of exposed skin would appeal to that base part of JJ that probably gets off on seeing him in tight or revealing clothes.

But JJ is once again absent, and Yuri can only stew in resentment as he sits in the lobby.

“JJ didn’t feel like sticking around?” he grumbles, aware that he’s being totally obvious around his friends, but at the moment he’s too sullen to give a shit.

Guang Hong already knows about the relationship anyway, which means Leo probably knows now, too. Emil keeps smiling at Yuri likes he’s happy for him, while Mickey stares shrewdly and seems to be figuring it out for himself.

“He said something came up,” Guang Hong says. He leans close to Yuri’s ear and murmurs, “He’s probably busy jerking off.”

Yuri snorts, more indignant than amused. He consoles himself by laying baby Luna along his thighs, entertaining her with a few Russian nursery rhymes.

JJ might not show his face, but Sophie comes by with a maniacal gleam in her eye again. She allows herself to be distracted by the baby, lulling Luna to sleep against her shoulder before ordering Yuri away.

“Don’t fuck up my Christmas, Plisetsky.”

Yuri rolls his eyes but hauls himself off of the lobby couch to hug Guang Hong and Leo goodbye. Upon returning to his room, Yuri drops onto the bed for a good forty minutes, dismissing Sophie’s plan for the sake of taking a nap.

What does it matter what he looks like? He was hardly at his best the last few time he’s had sex with JJ. He was exhausted from competition and a little drunk the first time, with sloppy hair and smudged eyeliner and a bitter curl to his mouth. He looked better at Mila and Sara’s wedding, where he was shoved into a stylish black jumpsuit as part of the wedding party, but by the time he and JJ got back to the hotel, his hair was falling out of its French twist and he was sweating through the makeup, flushed from too much champagne and stumbling around in a pair of uncomfortable heels. The last time was the worst; he wore his most boring suit to the Cup of China banquet, wrinkled from his poorly packed suitcase, and there were pimples on his chin he was too lazy to cover up — neither of which dissuaded JJ from inviting him back to his room to split a bottle of wine.

The difference lies in the fact that Yuri wasn’t annoyed with JJ on any of those occasions. The more JJ continues to text him, the more Yuri itches for retribution. He can’t deny JJ sex without denying himself exactly what he wants, but he _can_ torture JJ a little.

His phone wakes him, buzzing away against the nightstand.

> **JJ:**  
>  You’re ignoring me again  
>  Sugarplum  
>  What did we say last night about you avoiding me?  
>  Babydoll  
>  Angel face  
>  Sweetpea  
>  Darling  
>  Cutie pie?  
>  Which one do you like best?  
>  Dearest  
>  Babe  
>  Baby  
>  Sweetheart  
>  No I use that when I’m being condescending  
>  Sweet cheeks  
>  Muffin  
>  Princess  
>  Nope that one’s for Mel

Yuri almost caves as soon as JJ sends him a picture of Melody, fast asleep with a fluffy striped cat curled up beside her. He would regret that JJ now knows his two greatest weaknesses, but he’s too busy fawning over both the cat and JJ’s baby to care very much.

With a heavy sigh, Yuri leaves his phone on the bed and marches into the bathroom for a shower.

Now that he doesn’t have to rush, Yuri can take his time. He washes the concealer and eye makeup from his face. He shampoos and conditions his hair. He scrubs the day’s build up of sweat and grime from his body, then lets the hot water beat down on him, easing some of the tension from his muscles. By the time he steps out to dry off and moisturize, he’s refreshed and energized for the first time that day.

Yuri returns to the room in a towel and digs through his luggage for something to wear. He assumes that when Sophie said “something decent to wear” what she meant was “make more of an effort than a basic suit.” Yuri lays his suit out on the bed anyway — the same slightly wrinkled one he threw back on before leaving JJ in Beijing. The suit’s only saving grace is the slim fit; the gray color certainly won’t stand out in a crowd. It’s exactly the sort of drab, boring style Sophie would no doubt caution him against.

If he wasn’t so invigorated from his shower, Yuri would resign himself to the boring option for the sake of ease. Instead, he expends his newfound energy by searching through the mess of clothes, shoes, and accessories scattered over the floor until he finds something better. He digs out a pair of gold sequined leggings, which are fun and flashy but appropriate enough for the occasion if paired with the right top. Yuri picks a lightweight black button-down and a black blazer to balance out the glitzy bottoms.

His makeup case is an unsavory weight in his hands on the way back to the bathroom. Yuri paws through it for ideas but finds none. Makeup is an abomination he only bothers to use when he needs it — either to cover a bad breakout during competitions, or to satisfy a sponsor with a post online. Due to a few of the ads he’s been involved in over the years, as well as the pictures and videos he’s posted to social media for promotions, the Angels have come to the conclusion that Yuri is some sort of glamorous makeup guru beneath the dark hoodies and harsh scowls.

He isn’t. He’s a total fraud, but money is money is money, and more money means more support for Deda, which means they both get to live a comfortable life.

Yuri dries his hair with the shitty hotel blow dryer, then grabs his phone and turns to Google for help, pulling up a tutorial for a smokey eye with gold shadow that looks decent enough. He curses every step — from primer and foundation, to concealer and highlighter, to the shadow and the stupid false lashes Mila insists are necessary. All of it has him feeling like a fool. He convinces himself he looks like one, too, at least until he gets to the eyeliner, which he uses to create perfect, sharp wings the way Phichit taught him several years back.

Once he’s done, Yuri dresses quickly, tucking his shirt into the leggings but leaving the blazer unbuttoned. Google saves his ass again when he can’t decide what to do with his hair. He rolls it back and pins it into an elegant chignon, which he deems acceptable even if it leaves him more exposed without any of his hair loose to hide behind.

Satisfied but not entirely comfortable, Yuri returns to his luggage to decide between the few pieces of jewelry he brought with him. He settles for the usual studs in his ears and a simple necklace — a thin gold chain with a tiny cat paw charm, which was given to him by Mila the day he turned eighteen.

His coaches send their impatient texts soon after Yuri gives himself one last look in the bathroom mirror. He meets them by the elevator, acting for all the world as if he frequently makes an effort to look this well put together — like he doesn’t currently feel like a stupid kid playing dress-up. Lilia seems pleased for once, if the subtle easing of her often tense features is anything to go by.

Beside her, Yakov eyes Yuri suspiciously, then frowns and grumbles, “What’s the occasion?”

Yuri can’t help but be tempted to tell him the truth, just to watch Yakov sputter through a response when he hears about Yuri’s plans to be thoroughly fucked by the end of the night. Alas, those few seconds of embarrassed stammering wouldn’t be worth the deafening tirade Yuri would receive as soon as Yakov got his wits about him again.

So he shrugs and says, “I was bored.”

Neither of them question him further. They head down to the lobby together, silent but for Yakov’s muttered warnings about Yuri’s behavior. Yuri’s phone vibrates with texts throughout the entire elevator ride.

> **JJ:**  
>  Sophie has informed me that I’m being a dick  
>  You could yell at me  
>  What will ignoring me accomplish?  
>  You know I’ll keep going until you snap  
>  Personally I like sweetpea and baby  
>  Unless you’re into the kinky demeaning stuff  
>  I don’t think you are  
>  You act tough but I think you want me to be sweet with you

As the banquet will be held at a different venue, Yuri follows Yakov and Lilia to the shuttles provided for transport. He spends the short journey staring out the window, fingers curled in a death grip around his phone.

Anticipation rises from the depths of his anger. The butterflies swoop and flutter, skimming their wings along his insides. To say that is excited for the night to come would be an exaggeration, but he can’t control the restless energy surging through him, nor can he deny the low thrum of arousal that’s existed beneath his every thought since JJ first showed up at the rink the other day. Yuri fidgets and shifts in place so much, Yakov’s suspicious frown dips severely, and Lilia’s entire demeanor, from her scent to her pinched expression, acquires an edge of discontent.

Arriving at the venue does little to ease Yuri’s mood, if only because it means he has to force himself to appear gracious and engaging.

A photographer takes pictures just inside. Yuri removes his winter coat and gloves and consents to pose for a few shots, but he’s always been terrible at forcing a smile, so he ends up giving off the air of an uptight bitch. He ignores the guests ambling in after him and heads further into the venue before he can be dragged into any group shots. As his walks, Yuri focuses on his phone the way he did when he was younger and had no friends.

> **JJ:**  
>  Are you here yet?  
>  What are you wearing?  
>  I bet Sophie convinced you to ditch the suit  
>  But if you two think I’m going to be the impatient one tonight I will refer you to your program this afternoon  
>  Which one of us will want to leave first?  
>  I’m guessing you  
>  Think you can hold out?

Just as the last text arrives, it occurs to Yuri that Sophie could very well be toying with them both, orchestrating this ridiculous plan for her own amusement. JJ isn’t moping around or pouting. He’s being a cocky shit, amused by Yuri’s silence, relishing the effect he has on him. The most frustrating thing about it is that it turns Yuri on more than it annoys him. By trying to avoid a trap, he’s fallen right into one, and he almost doesn’t care as long as it means JJ’s going to fuck him until he can no longer move.

Yuri shoves his phone into his blazer pocket and peers at his coaches out of the corner of his eye. Lilia never looks concerned, even if she _has_ to know, but Yakov frowns at Yuri like he’s waiting for him to do or say something totally out of line.

Before they enter the main banquet hall, Yuri says, “Just so you know, JJ and his wife are getting a divorce.”

They both stop to glance at Yuri — Lilia with something like relief wrapped in impatience, and Yakov with confusion.

“How is that any of our concern?” Yakov asks.

“Because I’m fucking him and I don’t want you freaking out at me when you see us together.”

Yakov sputters as predicted, but Yuri doesn’t wait around long enough for further questioning. He makes a hasty escape into the crowd, ducking around other skaters and coaches, then glancing around until he finds the irritating piece of shit responsible for today’s bad mood.

Because JJ can’t help but be in the thick of things, he’s positioned himself in the center of the room, chatting with a small group of people that includes Emil and Mickey, an American ice dancing couple, and the men’s Junior Grand Prix gold medalist — a short, skinny blond from Canada who would remind Yuri of himself at fourteen if the kid was scowling instead of smiling.

Yuri can only stop and stare. Somehow, JJ has become even more handsome in the span of twenty-four hours. Perhaps it’s the suit — charcoal gray with a crisp white shirt and a black tie to match his shoes, which have been polished to a shine; every piece of it is so perfectly tailored to him, he could have just stepped out of an Armani ad. Perhaps it’s the confidence he exudes in spades, from the straight, proud way he stands, to the upbeat manner in which he converses, drawing his companions in with a vibrant energy, the likes of which Yuri has seen in so few others. Or perhaps it's the lighting, which softens everything; strings of gentle lights and gauzy white fabric trail from dimly lit chandeliers to float across the ceiling in delicate waves, bathing the room in a shimmery haze.

Seconds pass at most while Yuri lingers along the edge of the crowd. JJ spouts off a joke that has Emil tossing his head back with laughter, but instead of soaking in the merriment, JJ’s gaze breaks away from his companions to surreptitiously scan the room.

Their eyes meet and lock together. Between the intimate air cast on the room and the quiet music playing overhead, the moment creeps by like a film in slow motion. JJ’s scent calls out to Yuri, beckoning him forward. Yuri’s heart skips a single beat, then pounds furiously against his sternum. The rest of the guests fade from view; he and JJ could be the only two people in the room for all the attention Yuri pays his surroundings. By the delight in JJ’s eyes, Yuri assumes the feeling is entirely mutual.

Before he can become too deeply immersed, Yuri shakes himself out of his stupor. He slips through the crowd, drawn in by the curve of JJ’s mouth, one corner quirking higher than the other — as smug as he used to be when he dominated the men’s division.

Without greeting any of the others, Yuri grabs JJ by the lapels of his suit jacket and drags him away. If JJ put any effort into resisting, it would be an impossible task. Even with JJ obediently tripping along, his size and weight make shoving him into a less populated corner of the room a cumbersome endeavor at best.

“You stupid son of a bitch,” Yuri snarls at him. He manages to control the volume of his voice enough that only a handful of people nearby glance over in concern. Most of these people probably resigned themselves to a fight breaking out as soon as they realized he and JJ would be in the same room together.

JJ throws his hands up in surrender. “Sorry, sorry!”

The apology falls flat. JJ’s lips haven’t fallen out of the roguish grin. He cowers back a single step but doesn’t seem fearful. The halting laughter bubbling up through his chest could have been a nervous response if he didn’t look so pleased with himself.

Not so very long ago, punching that expression right off of JJ’s face would have been the most satisfying way to respond. The desire to do so flares within Yuri, restrained only by the knowledge that following through might ruin the evening before it even begins. He plants his hands against JJ’s chest instead, shoving at him with only half of his full strength.

JJ doesn’t even stumble.

“I might have deserved that,” he chuckles.

“What the _fuck_ did you think you were doing?”

“Teasing you.” Neither panic nor caution impede JJ’s voice; either he has no sense of self-preservation, or he feels good about the possibility of coming out of this encounter unscathed. He drops his hands to Yuri’s arms and holds him gently. “You’re so cute when you’re angry.”

“Then I must be fucking adorable right now,” Yuri sneers. He rips himself away and turns like he means to stomp off, but takes no more than a step before changing his mind and pivoting back. Striking at JJ’s shoulder with an open palm, Yuri demands, “Did you pull this sort of shit with you wife?”

“No, we never fought or got annoyed with each other. We kept that stuff to ourselves.”

Even after their discussion last night, the nonchalant tone gives Yuri pause. How can JJ be so blasé about it when Isabella was such an important part of his life for so long? Shouldn’t some sorrow linger? He can’t possibly be this cheerful all the time. The offhand manner of the comment has Yuri battling between bewilderment and reassurance.

Aggravating as the situation has been, a part of Yuri can’t help but deem himself superior to Isabella. At this rate, his affair with JJ was less of a farce than JJ’s marriage. If Isabella and JJ kept their negative thoughts and feelings to themselves, whether that meant anger or irritation or both, they had no business being a couple. Did they live a life of make believe even behind closed doors? Did they pretend their life together was perfect even when it was anything but?

At a loss for answers, Yuri fails to come up with an appropriate response. He seetles for glaring at JJ, who gazes back at him with a softening expression, his eyes going warm and reverent the longer Yuri stares at him.

Before he’s prepared to let his anger go, Yuri releases it on a heavy sigh. If he could be livid, he would. If he could shout at JJ, swear at him and call him terrible names the way he used to, at least one thing about their relationship would make sense, but it all fades away in the face of that stupid, charming smile.

When did he become so weak against it? When in the last ten months did JJ have the chance to sneak so far beneath Yuri’s defenses? They haven’t even seen one another often. Most of their conversations have occurred via text message and, until recently, rarely featured anything but the occasional comment about their respective programs, or short discussions about the competitions they would be making appearances at throughout the season, or sometimes complaints about training, coaches, and rinkmates. In person, they’ve been cordial but distant enough that no one outside of JJ’s family knew anything was amiss. They touched in secret, beneath tables and around deserted corners, or within the privacy of hotel rooms. They danced together in public, but not so boldly as to cross the line between friendship and romance. They’ve spent no more than three nights together.

Yet Yuri melts like a lovesick idiot. He doesn’t forgive JJ’s behavior, but he lets it go without another reprimand.

 _It’s the novelty of it_ , Yuri tells himself.

There’s no other explanation. He isn’t used to these quiet moments between them — standing outside in the cold waiting for their friends to arrive; holding hands across the table with JJ’s gaze so intent upon him; leaning close in the elevator with their arms intertwined; softly kissing against Yuri’s hotel room door. Each touch, each reassuring word out of JJ’s mouth, every second Yuri’s had those warm, admiring on on him has steadily worn him down. It’s different and new, and his brain can’t seem to process any of it well enough to come up with a proper defense.

The reminders help, too. He is not Isabella, and JJ is not Otabek. This relationship won’t be like it was with either of them, no matter where he and JJ choose to take it. They’ve had the chance to learn and grow from their mistakes.

JJ’s hands return to Yuri’s arms in a soothing slide. “I’m sorry. It was stupid. I won’t do it again.”

As much as he would like to, Yuri can’t scoff at the sincerity in JJ’s voice. Still, pride demands that he put up a feeble argument. “I don’t believe you.”

“So give me the chance to prove it to you.”

Yuri rolls his eyes and glances off to the side to give himself a break from looking JJ in the eye. There’s little more than bland walls to see in either direction, along with the few people who linger along his peripheral vision. They glance into the corner of the room, not whispering suspiciously yet, but clearly curious.

“You look gorgeous,” JJ says. His hands run down Yuri’s arms to pry his palms open, uncurling the fists Yuri wasn’t aware he’d made. 

Yuri allows the touch until JJ tries to link their fingers together. He comes into contact with JJ’s wedding ring and snatches his hands away, stepping back until the space between them loses some of its intimacy.

“People will see,” he cautions lowly.

“I don’t care,” JJ counters. “If we’re going to do this, I don’t want to keep it a secret forever.”

 _He_ does _want this_ , Yuri realizes. 

He turns another glare on JJ anyway. “Everyone still thinks you’re married.”

JJ shrugs the detail off like it hardly matters. “You want me to tell them I’m not? I’ll do it right now. I’ll get up on stage and announce it. I can release an official statement tonight or tomorrow. Whenever you want. I’ve only kept it quiet to give Bella some peace, but if you say you want me to—”

“Don’t be ridiculous,” Yuri cuts him off. “I haven’t even told anyone yet.”

He shouldn’t have said anything. He should have let JJ make the decision. If JJ means what he says, doesn’t that indicate his loyalties are shifting, that he intends to put Isabella behind him completely? Damn it all to hell, Yuri _wants_ that. He’s wanted it longer than he’s willing to admit. After the Cup of China, he would have forced JJ to make up his mind if he’d been more confident that JJ would pick him over his wife.

JJ’s loyalty matters. Only a year ago, Yuri would have given anything to have the same from Otabek.

Aside from a doubtful quirk of his brow, JJ doesn’t react. “No one?”

“Mila and Guang Hong know,” Yuri admits, mumbling his response with his gaze lowered to the floor. “I told Emil and my coaches. That’s it.” He pauses, forcing some of his frustration out on a savage huff as he directs another glower off to the side, adding, “Beka doesn’t know.”

“I assumed he didn’t.” JJ steps closer, reaching for one of Yuri’s hands again. He doesn’t link their fingers, rubbing his thumb against Yuri’s wrist instead. “Is this going to cause problems with him?”

“You didn’t think to ask me that the first time?”

“He was pretty obviously occupied with someone else the first time, so no.”

Yuri rolls his eyes at the reminder but doesn’t comment.

“You wouldn’t have slept with me at all if you were dating him,” JJ continues, “but I know you guys’ve had a thing, so if he still has feelings for you—”

“He doesn’t,” Yuri snaps. A lingering bitterness sharpens his tone more than he intends. Hastily, Yuri clears the strain from the throat. “He wouldn’t be fucking other people if he did.”

JJ’s resulting sigh is a soft breath through his nose and nothing else. Yuri senses there might be more he’d like to ask, but JJ either wants to salvage the plummeting mood or decides he doesn’t care to know the answer yet. His hand remains fixed around Yuri’s wrist, caressing the tattoo hidden by Yuri’s sleeve.

“Okay,” JJ says. Yuri has no idea what he’s agreeing to until he adds, “We don’t have to say anything to anyone else if you don’t want to.”

Yuri should be satisfied with that, but resentment and jealousy bloom deep in his chest the way they did when he woke up in Beijing.

Why should it matter who knows anymore? Why should he hold anything back on account of Otabek? Otabek didn’t tell him about Isabella — a different circumstance, true, but Otabek has also made it clear, _repeatedly_ , where things stand between them, whether or not he was ever truly aware of Yuri’s feelings. Yuri doesn’t even have those same feelings anymore, certainly not to the extent he used to. Disappointment dissolved them, whittling away at Yuri’s love and desire until he was left with nothing more than fondness wrapped in regret.

He and JJ haven’t done anything wrong. The timing could have been better, if only to arouse less suspicion, but when Yuri digs beneath the apprehension, when he ignores the confusion and doesn’t allow himself to be distracted by his racing thoughts, he finds that he doesn’t actually care what anyone else might think. He has no reason to relegate JJ to secrecy. The only opinions that matter are those of their friends and family. Judging by the reactions Yuri’s gotten so far, he doesn’t expect much in the way of negativity. Otabek might be skeptical and annoyed, but he’ll get over it once Yuri proves to him that he’s serious about the relationship. The rest of the world can go fuck themselves. If they speculate or spread ridiculous rumors with no basis in fact, it won’t make a difference.

 _JJ wants me_ , Yuri tells himself. _He wants to_ be _with me._

JJ wouldn’t offer to announce the news of his divorce if he didn’t. He wouldn’t want to make their relationship public knowledge if all he meant it to be was sex. JJ wants everything Yuri’s relationship with Otabek was not.

Frowning determinedly, Yuri grabs at JJ’s other hand — not to clasp it tenderly or tangle their fingers together, but to finally pluck JJ’s wedding ring off. He pulls it from JJ’s finger without resistance.

“I’m not giving it back,” Yuri says.

JJ beams at him. His eyes go wide and bright. His mouth stretches into the broadest grin Yuri has ever seen. It’s seems like another oddity that JJ should be so happy to part with something that once meant so much to him, but Yuri refuses to dwell on it. If anything, his confidence grows. He would preen under the attention if he didn’t think such behavior was beneath him.

JJ smells _so_ good — like excitement and affection and mounting desire, wood and citrus and smoke, and something fresh and clear, like the cold, crisp smell in the air before a snowstorm. Yuri longs to lean in and breathe, suck on JJ’s neck or mouth at his jaw, _anything_ to satisfy the greed and hunger setting his blood on fire.

 _I want to kiss him_ , Yuri thinks. Right there in front of everyone. He wants to grabs JJ by the lapels and push him against the wall, or drag him in by the neck while JJ’s arms surround him, whatever it takes to bridge the distance between them, meager though it might be at the moment. He wants to sink against JJ’s chest, melt into his hands, feel that stubble against his face again, even if it scrapes his skin raw by morning. Yuri considers leaving now, before the banquet even properly begins. It would be mildly inappropriate, but he doubts JJ would complain.

Yuri quells those thoughts with nothing more than stubbornness. JJ made him wait. Yuri’s mood might have significantly improved, but he still intends to return the favor. He pulls his wrist free and steps back, skillfully dodging when JJ reaches for him. Yuri says nothing more; he turns away and slips through the crowd to search for his assigned table, where Yakov and Lilia have taken their seats.

Yakov’s darkening scowl exaggerates the deep lines already etched into his face by age. Gruffly, he demands, “ _Explain_.”

“Settle down, old man,” Yuri mutters, carelessly dropping into his seat.

“I hardly think further explanation is necessary,” Lilia says. “Yuri’s said all he needs to. _Do_ open your eyes, Yakov. Even before he said something, surely it was obvious they’d—” She comes to a stop of her own accord, apparently unsure how to complete the sentence in a manner appropriate enough for polite company.

Yuri reaches back to unclasp his necklace. “The word you’re looking for is ‘fucked.’”

While Yakov sputters between them, Lilia glares her disapproval. “This is neither the time nor the place for vulgar language.”

Yuri repeats himself with greater fervor. “ _Fucked_.”

His coaches continue their frowning and growling, but Yuri pays them no mind. He strings JJ’s wedding ring onto the thin chain of his necklace before fastening it back into place, wearing it as he would one of his many gold medals.

Red faced, either from fury or embarrassment or both, Yakov manages to grumble out, “I hope you know what you’re doing.”

Yuri has no idea, but he sure as hell isn’t about to admit that to Yakov.

The banquet begins soon after. Naturally, the whole thing is a tedious affair. They always are, in Yuri’s opinion. He could live without the speeches and acknowledgements, and the company is rarely to his liking these days. The rest of the Russian team rounds out his table and the one next to them — two senior ladies, two junior ladies, a junior man, a senior pair, and a junior ice dancing couple, along with their respective coaches — which would be a comforting setup if Yuri socialized with any of them regularly. At least the food meets Yuri’s tastes, and there’s enough champagne to ease the awkwardness. Yakov and Lilia engaged in polite conversation but seem content to leave Yuri to his silent observations.

Yuri spends most of the meal stealing glances at one of the Canadian tables. There are an aggravating number of them present this year — four ladies between the senior and junior divisions, a single senior man, two pairs, two ice dancing couples, and two junior men, including the men’s Junior Grand Prix champion — but Yuri only has eyes for JJ, the tagalong who missed out on a spot at the Final but who, rather like Viktor several years ago, refuses to become irrelevant and fade into obscurity.

JJ sits parallel to Yuri on the other side of the room, between Sophie and their mother. Every once in a while, he turns his head just enough to catch Yuri’s eye. JJ winks once and smiles every other time, and though Yuri’s mouth twitches in response, he turns away before JJ can witness his lips turning up at the corners.

When they’re not making eyes across the room, JJ’s attention remains focused on the conversation around his table. Yuri can’t help but watch, fascinated in spite of himself. During their adolescence, JJ’s attitude did not always endear him to the international crowd, but he was widely accepted among his countrymen. Their love and admiration for him is palpable even after two years without a medal. They seek his company, they solicit his advice, and they defer to his experience. JJ makes no visible effort to lord over the table, but he reigns over them as King anyway. They smile when he speaks to him. They laugh at his jokes. They’re all so obviously charmed by him, it’s difficult for Yuri to imagine JJ was ever rejected by anyone.

But he was. Yuri witnessed it; he was _part_ of it, and he made sure everyone knew it.

Yuri has to wonder how much of that glowing fondness across the banquet hall is due to who JJ is as a person, and how much of it can be credited to his face. Are they simply starstruck, blinded by his celebrity, or do they see beyond that to the person Yuri has only just begun to catch glimpses of?

In the end, Yuri figures that if _he_ can find something to like about JJ when he doesn’t give a damn about JJ’s fame, then those who know JJ better than he does must love JJ as he is.

When the formal segments of the banquet end, a local jazz band takes the stage, and a number of people leave their seats to dance or mingle around the room again. Yuri remains at his table long enough that Lilia can’t accuse him of being impolite; he finally excuses himself under the pretext of fetching another flute of champagne.

A boisterous crowd has gathered by the time Yuri draws near JJ’s table. Assorted Canadians make up a majority of the group, along with a few Americans and the Japanese pair that seem to be on friendly terms with Charlie Leroy and Maddie Tremblay. Emil and Mickey occupy the seats recently vacated by JJ’s parents.

“Yuri!” Sophie shouts upon his arrivals. The smile on her face has a self-satisfied slant to it. “Pull up a chair!”

JJ begins to rise like he intends to offer his own seat, but Yuri stops him with a hand on his shoulder. He takes the opportunity that presents itself and drops right onto JJ’s lap, settling into place with a confidence born from impulsiveness. Around the table, other guests stare as Yuri makes himself comfortable across JJ’s strong thighs. If Yuri chose to make a game of it, the champagne in his hand might give the impression that he’s already intoxicated, but he pushes through any lingering doubts and decides he doesn’t care to pretend any longer.

“You alright, Plisetsky?” one of the American men asks, snickering into his own glass.

“Fine,” Yuri says.

“Careful,” a Canadian warns him. “You’ll get JJ into trouble.”

Yuri snorts but doesn’t respond, swallowing another sip of champagne.

JJ chuckles quietly and says, “Probably. But…”

He lifts his left hand to show the absence of his wedding ring. There’s a sliver of slightly paler skin where the ring used to rest, but even that should disappear in time.

Except for Emil and Mickey, Sophie, Charlie Leroy and Maddie Tremblay, their company around the table react with a mix of confusion and shock. An audible gasp erupts from many of them. One of the Canadian ladies covers her mouth like she can’t believe what she’s seeing.

“You’re kidding,” the American man says. Everyone else seems to be struck dumb. “When did that happen?”

“Earlier this year,” JJ says.

“And you didn’t _say_ anything?” the Canadian lady wails.

The table dissolves into heartfelt sympathy, stunned comments, and intrusive questions that all seem rather presumptuous to Yuri, but which JJ tackles with the same honesty he’s always demonstrated in interviews and press conferences. He doesn’t flinch away from their curiosity, and he answers each question with a frankness that further astounds his companions. Even Yuri finds himself impressed by JJ’s candor, though he hides it well; he has encountered too many alphas — men in particular — who would not be able to face the situation with the level of poise and class JJ displays.

JJ’s scent remains calm, drifting out and pulling Yuri in, curling around him eagerly. If having this conversation with Yuri in his lap causes JJ any stress or discomfort, he doesn’t show it. As far as Yuri can tell, JJ is thrilled by the proximity. He curls an arm around Yuri, resting his hand against Yuri’s hip. His other hand lands on Yuri’s thigh, low near his knee at first, but threatening to climb higher with every gentle squeeze of his fingers.

All of a sudden, Yuri is struck by the realization that this could easily backfire on him. He’s seconds away from suggesting they get out of here when he should be teasing JJ.

He tunes out the talk around the able and distracts himself with a glance around the room. Near one of the two Russian tables, Lilia and Yakov start a conversation with Nathalie and Alain Leroy.

When the questions dwindle and JJ’s attention returns to him, Yuri says, “Our parents look like they’re having a nice chat.”

JJ laughs but doesn’t turn to look. His hand slides higher up Yuri’s thigh. Pointedly, he asks, “What’s this?”

Yuri eyes hims gravely and says, “This is punishment.”

He feels JJ chuckle more than he hears it over the noise of the crowd. JJ’s chest quakes against Yuri’s side. In JJ’s lap, Yuri has the higher vantage point for once. He watches JJ’s gaze drop from his eyes to his mouth.

“Doesn’t really feel like punishment,” JJ says, warm breath ghosting across Yuri’s lips.

“It will,” Yuri warns him. He ignores the arousal burning hotter in his gut and drapes an arm across JJ’s shoulders. After another sip of champagne, Yuri demands, “Give me your phone and tell me about Melody.”

They spend most of the banquet going through JJ’s photos together. The rest of the table might as well not exist for all the attention Yuri gives the rest of their companions. Their voices barely even register. He’s aware of their laughter, and of Sophie and Emil giving boisterous commentary on either side of him, but their conversations interest him even less than usual. Occasionally, Sophie turns a smug look in Yuri’s direction, but Yuri chooses to ignore her. He’ll give her an earful later — the scheming bitch — when he doesn’t have her brother and her niece as suitable distractions.

Yuri studies each picture more closely than he was able to at dinner last night. JJ narrates this time, supplying countless details about his life as a single father, which he seems to have taken to with his usual enthusiasm. He takes Yuri back six months and begins on the day Melody was born. Though he speaks at first with some regret, it quickly becomes apparent that he’s adapted to his new life quite well. All the evidence seems to indicate that JJ is a proud and doting father.

“You weren’t in the room when she was born?” Yuri asks. In the earliest pictures, Melody has already been cleaned, swaddled, and outfitted with a tiny hat — a stark difference from pictures of the slimy purple things both Pavel and Lidiya were at birth.

“Bella didn’t want me there,” JJ says. He keeps his voice low so their conversation goes unheard by the rest of the table. “Her mom and her sister stayed with her while I sat in the waiting room all day.”

He sounds sad but not bitter, though the waiting must have been difficult for him. JJ might have a greater store of patience than Yuri, but he isn’t the type to sit on the sidelines when he could be in the thick of things. No doubt he would have wanted to be there to support his wife, and to see his daughter come into the world.

Yuri files that information away, letting it fester with the rest of his hatred for Isabella.

A short time later, Yuri comes upon a picture of JJ posing with Melody, taken a couple of months after she was born. They’re joined this time by two women, four men, and five other children, the oldest of which appears to be around four or five years old, but the remainder of whom are toddlers and infants.

“Who are these people?”

“My cousins, with their partners and kids. My grandmother wanted a picture of her grandchildren with our kids.”

“They’re all girls?” Yuri asks.

JJ laughs lightly. “Yeah. There’s a seventh girl due at the end of the month.”

“So seven kids between how many couples, and none of you have had a boy yet?”

It isn’t an odd predicament, just vaguely amusing, and likely to be rectified in the near future. Based on the fact that JJ has an obscene number of siblings, Yuri assumes he has an equally obscene number of cousins. Seven kids is likely on the tip of the iceberg until the rest reach socially acceptable child rearing ages.

“They’re all omegas, too,” JJ adds.

Yuri’s face scrunches with disgust. “That’s going to be a hormonal mess a decade from now.”

Laughter vibrates through JJ’s chest again. “Says the hormonal mess.”

Without tearing his eyes away from the phone, Yuri lifts his hand and gives the back of JJ’s head a solid whack.

The pictures are more numerous than Yuri realized. There have to be over a thousand of them at least, interspersed here and there with videos, all of which feature both JJ and Melody in some capacity. JJ discusses his experiences with such openness and honesty, Yuri can almost imagine what it must have been like for him to fumble through those first few weeks with a newborn, before slowly settling in to his new routine.

JJ’s voice never loses its warmth or pride. His gaze glimmers with a depth of affection Yuri has never seen from him before. Even at the height of JJ’s marriage, when he seemed so sickeningly in love with a woman he professed to respect and adore more deeply than anyone else on the face of the Earth, his fondness and contentment was never so uninhibited, neither in his expression nor in his scent.

It amazes Yuri — the magnitude of JJ’s love. Though he’s not had the chance to see JJ interact with Melody beyond yesterday’s FaceTime call, Yuri knows beyond a shadow of a doubt that JJ is a wonderful father. His very nature would ensure it. JJ gives so much of himself to other people, without hesitation, restraint, or shame. Surely his daughter must benefit from it the most. She’ll never want for anything — certainly not love and devotion.

A warm curl of satisfaction unfurls in Yuri’s chest, until jealousy digs its vicious claws in, ripping fissures into his heart through which hopelessness begins to ooze.

“I miss her like crazy,” JJ says. He stares at a picture sent to him by his in-laws that evening — Melody held in the arms of her maternal grandfather, her mouth and cheeks stained with pureed carrots.

“You could have brought her with you,” Yuri argues.

JJ’s eyes rise to meet his. The corners of JJ’s mouth quirk into a perceptive smile. “Would you avoid me if I had her with me?”

“Yes, but it would cost me more.”

“I’ll keep that in mind the next time I have to chase after you.”

Yuri rolls his eyes and lifts JJ’s phone to get a closer look at the picture. “Why don’t you ever post about her on social media?”

JJ’s shrugs, broad shoulders rising beneath Yuri’s arm. “It felt wrong for a while. Like I was gloating or something. I didn’t want to hurt Bella by posting about Mel when she wasn’t involved.”

“You’re too considerate,” Yuri complains.

“Maybe.”

They let the subject drop there. JJ seems eager to avoid more talk about Isabella. Yuri can’t be sure if JJ means to do so out of respect for her, or for Yuri himself, or if he’s simply moved on to a point in his life where he’s truly able to put that turmoil behind him. The few times JJ does mention her, his scent doesn’t fluctuate; his voice is always steady, often laced with more compassion than Yuri thinks Isabella deserves. He doesn’t let himself dwell on it for long. Isabella is not here. With any luck, Isabella won’t have any part in his or JJ’s life ever again.

Inspired, Yuri slips his own phone out of his blazer and shifts into a better position for a selfie — head tilted close to JJ’s, arm still draped comfortably over JJ’s shoulders. He posts the picture to Instagram without asking. JJ’s silence is permission enough for Yuri; he says nothing, but watches as Yuri chooses a filter and types out a caption and appropriate tags.

Only after Yuri posts it does JJ pinch his thigh and say, “You’re evil.”

“You’ll still fuck me,” Yuri counters.

JJ doesn’t deny it. He smiles contentedly and smoothes his fingers over the abused area on Yuri’s leg. Yuri has to bite at his bottom lip to restrain a smirk.

Around them, skaters come and go. Some rise to dance, others to fetch more food and drink. The empty spaces at the table are filled by curious spectators who drift over to take part in the revelry. Even without JJ’s active participation, the mix of Canadians and Americans are a rowdy bunch. They always have been. Yuri would normally keep his distance, probably lurk in a corner somewhere and play games on his phone until he could get away with leaving without a lecture from his coaches. His involvement tonight is peripheral at best, but it still marks the first occasion he’s drawn so close to this particular crowd.

Yuri’s champagne is long gone by now, the empty glass discarded on the table. He and JJ sit together quietly for a while, looking out from their private bubble to watch their companions, muttering comments back and forth when they have something amusing to say. Sophie continues to glance their way every so often, grinning like the self-satisfied Leroy Yuri will never again forget she is. On Yuri’s other side, Emil and Mickey drink and chat, gathering plenty of eyewitness testimony to share with Mila and Sara later.

Without a distraction, JJ grows restless. His hands, which remained still on Yuri’s hip and thigh for most of the evening, begin to travel over any part of Yuri he can reach without attracting attention. He squeezes Yuri’s hip and strokes up Yuri’s side, before his palm slides back to slip up Yuri’s blazer, creeping halfway up his back before lowering again. The other hand plays along Yuri’s thigh, drifting higher to thumb at the inner seam of Yuri’s shimmery gold leggings. Yuri stops himself from squirming, but it’s a near thing, his battle against desire nearly constant now. JJ appears entirely at ease, drumming along to the beat of the music with the tips of his fingers.

What began as punishment dissolves into something close to a cuddle — a relatively new experience for Yuri, whose time with Otabek never included long periods of snuggling. Yuri wonders if he should be disgusted with this turn of events, or if he should be bitter about the years he wasted on someone else — not that JJ was available at the time. Still, he can’t help but regret not having this chance sooner. The warmth and comfort of it serves as a balm. He thinks, _I could get used to this_ , and he knows, even as the thought burrows into his mind, how dangerous an idea it is for him to entertain.

After all, the “I could”s are what set him down that disastrous path with Otabek.

 _But this is different_ , Yuri reminds himself. He is in control of this situation. He learned from his mistakes with Otabek, and he knows when to rein himself in now. He won’t let himself become carried away again.

“Dance with me,” JJ murmurs into his ear, lips brushing against the delicate shell.

Yuri scoffs and says, “No.”

JJ exaggerates a pout. “Why not?”

“Because you want to.”

“So I’m still being punished?”

It stopped being a punishment the moment Yuri decided he was comfortable like this — possibly as soon as he dropped into place, though Yuri would like to deny that as long as he can. He hums an affirmative answer anyway, unwilling to admit the truth.

“Then you have to show me all the pictures you have of Karina,” JJ counters.

Even as Yuri digs his phone back out of his pocket, he rolls his eyes like the request itself is tiresome. At this point, it’s become habit to pretend he isn’t completely enamored with the subjects of his photo album. The only question that remains is whether or not anyone actually believes him. By the indulgent smile on JJ’s face, Yuri assumes his act has grown more transparent.

Yuri takes JJ through the last two weeks since Karina’s birth. He would be embarrassed by the sheer number of pictures if he hadn’t just spent most of the banquet delving through everything JJ’s phone has to offer. The only difference between the two is in the variety. JJ’s pictures of Melody were a vivid display of an active life, whereas Karina is so small, she’s either cradled in someone’s arms or sleeping in an incubator in every picture Yuri has of her.

Either way, JJ doesn’t seem bored or unimpressed. He asks questions about Karina’s medical care, and he marvels over her with tender eyes and a warm smile.

“She looks like a doll,” he says. “I guess that’s not surprising, with Viktor being Viktor and Katsuki having that boyish baby face.”

“One can only hope she gets her personality from Katsudon.”

When they run out of Karina pictures, Yuri introduces JJ to Pavel and Lidiya.

“These are Popovich’s kids, right?” JJ asks.

“Mmm.”

“I didn’t think you and Popovich were close.”

“We weren’t,” Yuri admits. “Not until Pavel was born.”

He scrolls back through four and a half years worth of pictures and videos — from dinner parties and babysitting adventures, to competitions, shopping excursions with Mila, trips to Moscow to see Deda, and summers spent with Otabek in Almaty or Saint Petersburg — all the way back to that day in May of 2018, when Georgi plopped Pavel into Yuri’s arms for the first time.

Yuri shares the story with JJ, though he leaves out everything about his unrequited feelings for Otabek. JJ laughs at the stricken look on eighteen-year-old Yuri’s face. After all this time, and after all the changes he’s been through, Yuri finds that he’s a little amused by it, too.

It could have happened yesterday, he remembers it so clearly. Yet no matter how hard Yuri tries, he can’t dredge up those feelings anymore — not the love he felt for Otabek, or the fear he experienced when he looked into Pavel’s scrunches up face. He can see it there in the photos, and he recognizes that eighteen-year-old boy as someone he used to be, but four years have changed him in ways he couldn’t even fathom then.

The years haven’t created a different person. He’s still the same quick-tempered asshole he became once puberty dumped a mess of hormones on him and turned a relatively happy child into a furious rage monster, but the changes that _did_ take place have been significant. All the evidence is right there on his phone.

The months after Pavel’s birth feature many of the same activities that made up Yuri’s life before it: long days of practice, nights curled up with Potya, exploits around Saint Petersburg with Mila, and near constant traveling from country to country, across oceans and continents.

Scattered throughout are more pictures of a dark haired, blue eyed baby. Pavel smiling — all gums at first, until his teeth began to grow in. Pavel sucking on his drool covered fists. Pavel fast asleep in a baby carriage, outside in the late summer sun. Pavel discovering his own feet and playing with his toes. Pavel learning to crawl. Georgi’s wife Nadya spooning mushy food into Pavel’s waiting mouth. Georgi holding a giggling, rosy-cheeked Pavel in the falling snow. Pavel grabbing fistguls of Potya’s fur. Pavel holding onto the edge of an upholstered chair and, in a series of somewhat blurry, hastily snapped photos, pulling himself up to stand for the first time.

By the time Pavel’s first birthday rolled around, he became one of the most prominent features in the snapshots of Yuri’s life.

“He’s the reason you want to be a mom.”

Yuri flicks his gaze from his phone to JJ, whose smile is soft and restrained, and whose eyes stare at Yuri with a glimmer of something that looks like awe, as if he’s seeing something in Yuri for the first time.

The whole matter sounds very profound when JJ puts it like that.

It’s true, of course. Otabek might be the reason Yuri first opened his heart to the idea of love and family, but it would have been nothing more than a fleeting thought without Pavel there to solidify it.

After Pavel’s birth, the rinkmates Yuri barely considered friends began to feel like a family. Yakov and Lilia already assumed the roles of Yuri’s substitute parents, and Mila set herself up as an older sister to him whether or not Yuri cared to award her the label. One by one, the rest fell into place. First it was Georgi and Viktor who bonded after well over a decade of keeping one another at arm’s length. With Viktor came Yuuri, who developed a good rapport with Nadya, whose position as First Soloist with the Mariinsky Ballet quickly endeared her to Lilia. All of a sudden, Yuri was joining them all for weekly dinners, encouraged along by Mila or Lilia or Viktor. It took years for him to admit it, but he found himself enjoying the time he spent with them.

Pavel was where his friends were. Yuri could either accept his presence, go to the trouble of finding new friends, or lock himself away in his room to spend his every day alone. Despite his prickly demeanor and social indifference, loneliness and boredom are not conditions Yuri handles with any grace, but gaining new friends would have required putting himself out in the world more than he cared to. His only option was to accept the fact that there would always be a squealing, drooling baby around whenever he wanted company.

The awkwardness faded with regular contact. Through Pavel, Yuri discovered a type of affection and contentment he’d never experienced with anyone before. He could make Pavel smile simply by saying his name. He could dangle a toy over Pavel’s head, and Pavel would laugh like it was the funniest thing in the world. Yuri grew to love Pavel’s warm little body, the weight of him in his arms, the way Pavel would nestle against his shoulder when he was tired. During every “family” dinner, with every night spent sharing babysitting duties with Mila, Yuri learned something new about this strange little human, until he could identify a scared cry from a hungry one, and recognize Pavel from a sea of other babies simply by the sound of his laughter.

Everything that grossed him out before — the drool, the shit and piss, the spit up — it all became a series of minor concerns when pitted against Pavel’s smiling face and babbling voice. Those things barely even faze Yuri now. Pavel taught him patience, helped him develop sympathy, showed him that he could care for someone to the point that fear and frustration seem like such trivial matters.

With Pavel as with Deda, Yuri learned the meaning of unconditional love.

“Yeah,” Yuri says. The truth is impossible to deny when he has the evidence right in front of him. 

Would he want to deny it even if he could?

JJ wraps his arms around Yuri, pulling him flush against his chest. Yuri settles into the embrace, ignoring the stares they receive. He rests his head against JJ’s and breathes him in, letting JJ’s familiar scent seep further into his consciousness. The instinct to struggle doesn’t even materialize. The entire room could be watching and it wouldn’t make a difference.

Again, the thought crosses Yuri’s mind — _I want to kiss him._

Perhaps he should find it strange that he’s so comfortable like this after years of agitating rivalry. Perhaps he should be more apprehensive about what’s been happening between them; it’s only just begun and it barely makes any sense. He has no idea where he wants to take it, or how JJ wants to proceed, or even if it’s wise to become so deeply involved with one another, considering their history. Perhaps he should be disgusted by the thoughts and feelings he has for JJ, because JJ is JJ — the insufferably arrogant piece of shit who once came in dead last on Yuri’s list of “people who are worthy of my time.”

Yet he adjusts himself in JJ’s lap, places one hand against the back of JJ’s head, the other against his neck, and he drags JJ into a bruising kiss.

They have a large audience. A voice nearby says, “I did _not_ see that coming.” 

Sophie scoffs and responds, “Seriously, haven’t _any_ of you been paying attention these last seven years?”

Several of the guests around their table whistle, whoop, and holler, making such a ruckus they’re sure to draw attention from other corners of the room. Whispers of shock and confusion erupt among the crowd. A photographer still meanders through the banquet hall, snapping pictures of the revelry. Yakov and Lilia probably look in in irritation and displeasure.

But with JJ’s hand grasping his hip, and an arm around his waist holding him close, Yuri decides he doesn’t care at all.

Let them all see. 

What could he possibly have to hide?

* * *

[A selfie of Yuri and JJ at the banquet. Yuri nestles into JJ’s chest with an arm draped around JJ’s shoulders, smirking while JJ displays his lopsided grin. Yuri’s necklace has dropped beneath his shirt, but the tiniest sliver of platinum ring is visible through the gap created by his unbuttoned collar. To anyone looking closely, it would seem like nothing more than a pendant or charm.]

**84,911 likes**

**yuri_plisetsky** We get better with age #gpf2022 #banquet #rivals #gold #winner #jjstyle

 **mila-babicheva** Wow for once you actually look really hot  
**yuri_plisetsky** @mila-babicheva Fuck you I always look hot  
**mila-babicheva** @yuri_plisetsky Except for 90% of the time when you look like a slob  
**yuri_plisetsky** @mila-babicheva Why are we friends?  
**mila-babicheva** @yuri_plisetsky Who do we have to thank for this look?  
**sophie-leroy00** @yuri_plisetsky @mila-babicheva I bullied him into it  
**mila-babicheva** @yuri_plisetsky @sophie-leroy00 Omg my hero  
**yuri_plisetsky** @mila-babicheva @sophie-leroy00 I hate you both  
**mila-babicheva** @yuri_plisetsky @sophie-leroy00 The more you say that the more it loses its effect  
**phichit+chu** So fierce! More looks like this please!  
**yuri_plisetsky** @phichit+chu But it takes so much time and effort  
**phichit+chu** @yuri_plisetsky Beauty is pain my love  
**yuri_plisetsky** @phichit+chu Beauty is bullshit  
**Jjleroy!15** I happen to think I look pretty hot too  
**mila-babicheva** @Jjleroy!15 You always look hot so there’s no point reminding you  
**Jjleroy!15** @mila-babicheva Me ego demands it  
**mila-babicheva** @Jjleroy!15 Fine you look very handsome. My only critique is that you seem to be wearing too many clothes  
**Jjleroy!15** @mila-babicheva Are you asking me for nudes?  
**mila-babicheva** @Jjleroy!15 I asked you for nudes eight years ago and you never delivered  
**yuri_plisetsky** @Jjleroy!15 @mila-babicheva Wtf if you send her nudes I will murder you  
**Jjleroy!15** @mila-babicheva @yuri_plisetsky Isn’t it enough that I’ve done nude photoshoots???  
**christophe-gc** @Jjleroy!15 @mila-babicheva @yuri_plisetsky The world demands more

DECEMBER 11

* * *

They fuck. Of course they do.

They escape the banquet hall before Sophie can ask them out for more drinks, exchanging sultry glances on the way back to the hotel. During the entire shuttle ride, JJ’s hand inches higher up Yuri’s thigh. In the elevator, he pulls Yuri back against his chest, arms tight around Yuri’s waist. Desire seeps from his every pore, so strong Yuri is dizzy with it by the time they stumble out into the hall, making a hasty retreat into JJ’s room.

Something snaps between them as soon as they cross inside. The building tension, or their sanity. Certainly their patience reaches its limit. After an unnecessarily prolonged wait, their self-control has worn thin. Neither of them pause over the threshold. There’s no moment of consideration. They don’t exchange a single word. The door slams shut, Yuri grabs JJ by the lapels, and he shoves JJ against the wall.

Their mouths come together with a ferocity Yuri failed to coax out of JJ last night. The memory of those sweet, tender kisses vanishes as soon as Yuri has his tongue in JJ’s mouth, pulling a low moan from JJ’s throat as their hands promptly get to work.

Winter coats and gloves drop to the floor in a scattered pile at their feet. Yuri cups his cold hands along JJ’s jaw, letting that rough stubble scrape against his palms. JJ plucks at Yuri’s hair, removing pin after pin until the low coil begins to unravel; hungrily, his fingers sink into the blond mass before he’s successfully freed it, cradling Yuri’s skull and directing his head to a more comfortable angle.

Their lips part in a lapse so brief it almost doesn’t register with either of them — a fleeting moment to revel in the clutch of hands and the warm breath passing between them before the intensity of it all overtakes them again.

Passion becomes possessiveness, and impatience makes a fool of Yuri. Hands wander aimlessly, his actions halting and indecisive. He yanks at the knot of JJ’s tie until it loosens, but he doesn’t pull it free. It hangs there while he changes tactics, fingers forcing open the only button of JJ’s suit jacket. Yuri intends to push it off JJ’s shoulders, but he’s distracted by JJ peeling his blazer down his arms, a task JJ accomplishes with more dexterity. Yuri shakes his arms free of the sleeves and lets the blazer fall. When his hands return, they grope at JJ’s shirt buttons.

He can’t complete a single task. Yuri stops and starts again, moving from one article of clothing to the next, only to give up and attempt something different — something that seems more logical; something that seems easier. Or he neglects JJ’s clothing altogether simply for the opportunity to touch him. He cups JJ’s jaw, caresses his neck, squeezes his shoulders. Fingers press into firm muscle, dragging down JJ’s chest to claw ineffectively at his shirt.

JJ smiles against Yuri’s mouth. “Did you miss me?”

Yuri catches JJ bottom lip between his teeth to give it a retaliatory tug, then drags his tongue over the stubble beneath. The rasp of it wrings a moan from deep within Yuri’s chest.

“Missed your fat dick,” he says.

Even now, in the heat of this moment, he can’t admit to more than that, can’t be anything but intractable and snide. Vulgarity will protect him better than the truth, which is that he missed JJ terribly — far more than he ever realized. He stared at his phone during every dull moment of the last month and questioned every choice he made it Beijing, right down to the second he left, and it was only stubbornness and fear that kept him from unblocking JJ each time. If only he could have dredged up the courage to confront JJ, they could have solved this mess without the stress and heartache. The last five weeks might never have happened. They could have been like this all along, with nothing standing in their way.

A laugh rumbles through JJ’s chest, but Yuri puts a stop to any further attempts at humor by dropping to his knees. He tears at the fastenings of JJ’s pants, spurred on by the poorly repressed “ _fuck_ ” that tumbles from JJ’s lips. The heated whisper inflames the inferno already raging in Yuri’s belly; JJ only uses that particular word when he’s reaching the limits of his self-control.

JJ’s cock is half hard when Yuri pulls it from the confines of his trousers and briefs. Yuri slides his hand along the shaft in lazy strokes, mouth watering as it continues to thicken and lengthen at his touch. He nuzzles the base of it, breathing in more of JJ’s natural scent. It’s stronger here without cologne and cigarette smoke to mask it. JJ smells of soap and musk and intoxicating arousal.

Yuri takes JJ’s cock into his mouth, wringing another moan from JJ’s throat. His sporadic sexual encounters have not afforded Yuri the opportunity to properly cultivate any considerable skill at sucking dick, but what he lacks in experience and finesse, he makes up for with enthusiasm. After gagging twice in a valiant attempt to take JJ deeper, Yuri eases back and focuses on what he can realistically fit in his mouth, using his hand on the rest. His pride suffers for it, but if tonight ends the way he expects it to, he’ll have plenty of chances to improve his technique in the not too distant future.

Just the thought of having JJ’s cock in his throat with JJ's knot beginning to swell between his lips is enough to drive Yuri wild.

JJ leans against the wall for support. Eager hands cradle Yuri’s head, pulling extra pins from his hair. Soon the tasteful chignon Yuri took such great pains to style earlier that evening is completely ruined. Unruly tendrils of blond fall into his face and tumble over his shoulders. JJ buries his fingers into the mass, carding through and catching on a few stubborn knots. He gathers it all into his hands and pulls gently, slowly increasing the pressure until Yuri takes the hint and pulls off of JJ’s cock.

“What?” Yuri snaps at him.

“Bed,” JJ says. All the brightness and energy has left his voice, leaving it rough and deep.

Yuri rolls his eyes, but since the cramped entryway isn’t exactly his idea of a comfortable place to fuck, he withholds his complaints and stands unsteadily, satisfying himself by shoving his tongue back into JJ’s mouth, fierce and sloppy in his impatience.

His shirts hangs lose moments later; JJ’s ministrations are so deft and quick, Yuri doesn’t even notice until cool air and warm hands brush against his bare skin. JJ tugs the shirt from Yuri’s leggings, discarding it as soon as Yuri’s arms slip free. His hands are as greedy as Yuri’s mouth, grasping at Yuri’s waist, sliding down his back to kneed Yuri’s ass, before dipping just below to clutch at Yuri’s thighs.

“Up,” he demands.

Yuri flings his arms around JJ’s neck, lifting just enough for JJ to haul him up into his arms. His late adolescent growth spurt might have given him more height, but little else changed about Yuri’s body; he remains as willowy as he was when he was shorter, all long, thin limbs and lean muscle. JJ carries him effortlessly, without any visible sign of strain, arms embracing him in a secure hold while Yuri’s legs cinch around his waist. Yuri toes off his heels on their way to the bed, then relieves some of the pressure between his legs by grinding against JJ’s abs.

JJ drops him onto the mattress without warning, laughing softly at the hostile glare he earns. Yuri scrambles up into a sitting position, scowl deepening when he notices that, despite the fact that JJ’s cock juts out from his open trousers, Yuri still has not managed to remove a single piece of JJ’s clothing.

“Take your fucking clothes off,” Yuri grumbles.

JJ’s mouth tilts into that stupid, aggravating, self-satisfied half-smile, nearly as large as a grin but with the subtle restraint of a smirk. It’s sexy as hell and Yuri _hates_ him for it, but he can’t do anything about it because watching JJ strip is such an effective distraction. JJ shrug off his suit jacket. The tie comes off next, sliding away with a quiet swish. Hungrily, Yuri follows the movement of JJ’s hands, which skillfully flick at the buttons of JJ’s shirt until that, too, falls to the floor.

Yuri rises onto his knees and attaches his mouth to JJ’s jaw, hands grasping JJ’s bare shoulders. They slide down to grope at JJ’s pecs while he drags his tongue over JJ’s stubble. Then the tips of his fingers skim over JJ’s nipples, extracting a quiet gasp.

Startled out of his efforts by a hard smack to the outside of his thigh, Yuri pulls away intending to glare a warning, but stops short at the heat in JJ’s eyes.

“Leggings off,” JJ says.

Yuri huffs but drops back onto the mattress. 

He gets no further than peeling his leggings down his hips before JJ serves up another distraction. His shoes thump against the floor. The clink of his unlatched belt buckle draws Yuri’s gaze back to JJ’s cock, and the muscled thighs exposed by the descent of his trousers and briefs. Soon all that remains is JJ’s watch, an expensive piece he unfastens and drops to the pile of clothes at his feet.

Gloriously naked, JJ could be a god carved from stone, like all those stupid statues Yuri’s seen in boring museums. Only JJ isn’t boring. He’s unbelievably gorgeous, all chiseled muscle and tan skin and dark tattoos. Yuri drinks him in — the broad, round shoulders and hard chest, the visible strength in his sturdy arms, the perfect cut of his abs, and the dark trail of hair leading down to a cock that juts out proudly, long and thick and far too obscene for any statue.

The tattoos have grown more numerous over the years, from JJ’s arms and lower back, over his shoulders, chest, and ribs. With so many to explore, Yuri can’t be sure he’s actually seen them all. The crucifix is familiar, as is the dove for the holy spirit. There’s a silhouette of the virgin Mary, and looping script that could be songs or quotes or bible passages. A lion and a crown represent King JJ and JJ Style as much as his initials do. All of them were done in dark ink, except for the Olympic rings situated beneath the maple leaf and anthem verse on JJ’s arm, each circle in their corresponding color. Tucked into the inside of JJ’s elbow is a compass rose. Scattered over his ribs are notes of music. A patch of tiny stars near his hip could form a constellation; Yuri traces the tip of his finger over them, connecting one star to the next.

JJ’s eyes are dark and cloudy with lust. They drop to Yuri’s legs, where he makes a point to zero in on the gold leggings, before rising to lock eyes with him. A single eyebrow arches expectantly.

Yuri shoves his leggings off, dragging his underwear down with them; any intention he might have had to seduce JJ with his choice of thong becomes lost beneath his need to strip naked as fast as possible. The leggings snag around his ankles, prompting Yuri to tug at them furiously, forcing them off and tossing them out of sight. Only his jewelry remains, JJ’s wedding ring hanging warm against his chest.

Lamplight bathes the room in a soft, golden glow. Yuri slides up the mattress, coming to rest near the pillows, spread out in the brightest pool of light. JJ crawls after him, eyes devouring the entire length of Yuri’s body. Yuri’s hands are on him in an instant, grasping and pulling JJ into place between his parted legs. JJ braces himself above him, but he holds himself too high for Yuri’s liking, so Yuri surges up to crush their mouths together again, drinking in the moans that pass through JJ’s lips.

Their hands explore with increasing urgency. An arm snakes its way around JJ’s waist, encouraging him closer as JJ’s fingers sink back into Yuri’s hair. Yuri’s unoccupied hand dives down to wrap around JJ’s cock, stroking determinedly and eliciting a ragged breath through JJ’s chest. Fully hard and hot in Yuri’s hand, JJ’s hips buck forward, chasing friction.

Yuri breaks the kiss and allows his eyes to trail over JJ’s body, mouth watering again at the sight of JJ’s cock thrusting into his fist. He almost slinks down to take JJ back into his mouth, desperate to suck the rigid shaft until JJ comes down his throat. Before he can slide any further than JJ’s neck, JJ’s fingers leave his hair, drop between Yuri’s legs, and plunge into his wet hole.

“Oh, _fuck_!”

Arousal has him wet and loose enough that two of JJ’s fingers slip in easily. Yuri tips his head back and arches, grinding onto those fingers with abandon. He clutches at JJ, nails scratching thin lines into his skin. All of Yuri’s plans die a sudden death. He barely has the wherewithal to continue tugging at JJ’s dick. His every need centers around JJ’s hand, and the pleasure those prodding fingers send coursing through his body. A smug chuckle vibrates up JJ’s chest, but Yuri barely hears it beneath his own wanton moans.

When a third finger enters him, Yuri’s hands fall away completely. His palms press into the bed, grasping onto the blanket for some sort of anchor as his hips continue to rock, seeking his own release.

JJ latches onto Yuri’s neck, sucking a bruise into the pale flesh. His body radiates heat and lust. The arm planted by Yuri’s head shakes unsteadily, before the muscles tense to support JJ’s weight. He peppers the column of Yuri’s throat with kisses, rising to claim his mouth, tongue delving in to mimic the thrust of his hand.

The fingers are gone mere moments later, sliding out as quickly as they came. JJ rears back and skates his hands down Yuri’s thighs, tracking slick over Yuri’s skin. Yuri would mourn the loss if he wasn’t anxious to rush ahead. After weeks apart, a month of silence, and the night before which ended much too soon, sparks of anticipation crack between them.

Yuri rolls onto his stomach and props himself up on his knees, cheek pressed into the mattress. The bedding smells like JJ, tempting Yuri to close his eyes and hold his nose to it, drawing the scent into his lungs. He can almost taste it, thick and potent against his tongue. Yuri swallows as if the drink it down. He’s never craved a scent so much, never wanted to drown in the smell of another person, wrap it around himself like a cloak and claim it as his own.

The mattress dips when JJ shuffles into place behind him. A memory flashes through Yuri’s brain, taking him back to those nights in Beijing — JJ’s hands on his hips, breath hot and ragged against his neck, mouth spilling gasps and moans into Yuri’s ear, choking off curses and chanting his name with increasing volume. That night after the Olympics, he began by calling him “Yuri,” but it changed by the end, and every instance after that sounded like a prayer.

 _“Baby…_ God _, baby…”_

Hands come to rest on Yuri’s hips again, squeezing tight — an encouragement and a promise rolled into one. They remain in place for seconds as most, then skim up Yuri’s sides, over his back and shoulders, before dropping to either side of Yuri’s head. JJ’s arms bend. He drapes himself over Yuri, chest against his back, cock teasingly close. Yuri shifts his knees into a better position, angling his hips, hands flying out to grip at JJ’s forearms.

Lips nip at the side of his neck. JJ abuses the skin until it reddens with another growing bruise. He kisses his way up, stubble dragging against Yuri’s jaw. JJ twists an arm free and brings his hand to Yuri’s neck, his grip gentle, but firm enough to force movement, tipping Yuri’s head back.

JJ kisses Yuri’s temple, his cheek, the corner of his eye, then brings his mouth to Yuri’s ear and breathes, “Is this how you want it?”

“ _Fuck_ …”

Yuri means to growl an insult, or snarl out some harsh response to remind JJ which one of them has been running this game all day, but all he can manage is that one word, which catches in his throat and escapes on a puff of air, barely more than a whisper.

JJ nuzzles into the side of Yuri’s face, like he knows exactly what the feel of that rough stubble does to him.

“I don’t think it is,” he says.

Then he pulls away, but he doesn’t give Yuri the chance to grieve. JJ puts his hands on Yuri’s waist, cajoling, turning Yuri onto his back again. Yuri gazes up, lost and confused by the sudden change, but his brain catches up as soon as he stares into JJ’s eyes. They seem to burn into him, dark with arousal but bright with need and desperation. Confidence leeches from JJ’s scent, revealing a shred of the anxiety beneath.

Yuri has no need for words to understand that JJ wants everything they didn’t have in Beijing. 

JJ wants romance. He wants something meaningful, something more than the sporadic hookups they’ve had until now. He wants heated glances across the room and the comforting touch of hands beneath the table. He wants dates and holidays and special occasions. He wants Yuri at his side, rolling his eyes and smacking JJ’s chest, scoffing and scowling over every ridiculous thing. He wants something soft and sweet and wonderful, all of which once seemed so impossible — things that still make Yuri’s heart race, butterflies swarming, caught somewhere between his own stupid fantasies and the lingering fear.

This time, Yuri fights through the fear. His legs fall open, inviting.

Their mouths collide, a furious tangle of tongues and swollen lips and too much teeth. Yuri licks into the indent above JJ’s cupid’s bow. He nibbles beneath JJ’s bottom lip, then dips his tongue back into JJ’s mouth, cupping JJ’s face between his hands. His palms drag down JJ’s jaw, relishing the scratch of stubble against his skin.

Yuri moans and lifts his hips to signal JJ onward, frantic for more — his cock or his fingers or his mouth, anything to satisfy the searing ache deep within him. His body throbs with it, from the tips of his fingers and toes to the center of his chest, down into muscle and bone. To lessen the pressure, Yuri digs his nails into JJ’s back, bites and sucks at his neck and shoulders, leaving the scratches and bruises he was once so careful to avoid.

JJ pulls back, lips parting from Yuri’s, tongue retreating. Yuri chases after him, but JJ ducks away from his searching hands and adjusts his position.

“You _stupid_ —”

Yuri can’t finish the complaint, because the second he opens his mouth to spit his impatient insults, JJ’s cock breaches him in one smooth slide.

The suddenness of it steals the air from Yuri’s lungs. He gasps for breath, dragging oxygen down his throat, body tensing from the shock before relaxing, stretching to accommodate JJ’s girth. Yuri’s head lolls against the mattress. His eyes roll back until he shuts them, riding the initial wave of pleasure, but JJ doesn’t give him time to recover. He pulls back and thrusts in again, building a steady rhythm that sends Yuri spiraling out of control before his brain can catch up.

JJ gives Yuri everything he asked for in Beijing, only this time Yuri can stare him in the eye.

Rough sex would not normally be such a novel experience. Otabek was rough simply for the sake of _being_ rough, because it got him off or he was too impatient to draw it out longer. Hard and fast was the only kind of sex they had. It lost its effect after a while, fulfilling only because it was Otabek, and Yuri would take whatever he could get from him. There was never any tenderness, no intensity beyond dark eyes and possessive hands. Sex was a mad rush for the end, more for the pleasure of the act than anything else, a surge of arousal that had to be satisfied before they could withdraw from one another — friends always, but lovers only when the occasion favored it.

JJ fucks like he’ll die if he doesn’t bury himself as deep within Yuri as physically possible, thrusting with all the pent up longing that’s been building since their last night together. His hips snap forward, the scent of his passion beading into each drop of sweat dampening his brow. He expels lust into the air with every labored breath, sending sparks of it across Yuri’s skin with the pads of his fingers. Desire and affection wash over Yuri, blanketing him in heat and pleasure until he’s nearly delirious from it. JJ looks into his eyes with something akin to awe, and Yuri wonders if he would have seen the same before, if this has always been there beneath the surface, hidden beneath the jokes and the relentless teasing, misplaced fuel for JJ’s arrogance.

Yuri lifts his arms and pulls JJ down to him, eating at JJ’s mouth and swallowing his moans as they share the same air. His hands shift and explore, grabbing first at JJ’s biceps to hold himself steady, before sliding over JJ’s shoulders. He paws at JJ’s muscled back, dragging his nails down JJ’s spine, which tears another gasp from him and earns Yuri a particularly brutal thrust. Yuri whimpers and his toes curl, thighs falling open wider.

JJ breaks their kiss and releases a rasping moan into Yuri’s hair. “ _Baby_ …”

“Fu— _Fuck_ …”

Yuri’s brain short-circuits, rendering him incapable of forming any other words. He swears with every rocking motion of JJ’s hips, until JJ’s mouth covers his own again, silencing all but his moans. When they part for breath, a switch flips in Yuri’s head and offers a name instead of a curse.

“ _JJ_!”

He groans that name over and over again, because at a different time and in the different place, this would not be happening. Years ago, Yuri never would have considered that they might end up here, fucking with this level of passion — not one stemming from hate or anger, or the hubris they’ve both displayed, but from something Yuri can’t identify, something power and raw that reaches into the very depths of his soul. In a way, it almost seems forbidden, though nothing stands between them now, like they’ve fallen into something they’ve always tried to fend off, either because it wasn’t the right time or the right place, or because neither of them were the right person.

Pleasure burns through Yuri, pooling low in his gut, the pressure of it heavy between his legs. His knees spread as far apart as he can comfortably hold them, hips tilting into each hard thrust. He puts his lips to JJ’s neck where his scent is strongest, dragging his teeth over JJ’s fluttering pulse before sucking another mark into the skin, tasting his sweat. Every motion sends JJ’s ring skidding against Yuri’s chest; the chain finally twists and drops off into the curve of Yuri’s neck and shoulder.

“God, _yes_ ,” JJ groans, wedging a hand between them to pump at Yuri’s weeping cock. “ _Fuck_ , baby, I’m—”

Yuri recognizes the urgent tone, and the tightening fit of JJ’s cock that signals the swelling of his knot. JJ makes an effort to disengage, but Yuri clings to him, pulling him forward and drawing him back in. A jolt of intense pleasure sears through Yuri’s veins, coalescing down into his pelvis, hot and steady where JJ’s cock slams into him.

“Can I knot you?” JJ chokes out. “Please, baby, can I—”

This time, Yuri doesn’t hesitate or go to war with himself about what might be right or wrong. He doesn’t consider the danger of letting himself give in, or force himself to give an answer contrary to what he wants. He doesn’t snap at JJ, or spit out a series of vicious words to make this moment seem less significant. He doesn’t even try to act tough when he responds, already lost to the building emotions and the mounting pleasure, unable to dredge up even a fraction of stubbornness or indifference to exert any control over the words that fall from his mouth.

“ _Yes_!” he gasps, and when it seems as if JJ might not have heard him, Yuri cries, “Fuck, _yes_ , please! Please! _Please_ , JJ!”

It will probably go to JJ’s head later, but Yuri can’t bring himself to care as long as it means JJ won’t stop.

Yuri rolls and grinds his hips onto JJ’s growing knot. He drops his hands to JJ’s firm ass, grabbing on to yank him forward. His moans reverate against JJ’s neck as JJ braces himself on one arm, using his other hand to continue fisting Yuri’s cock.

The orgasm that rips through Yuri shocks him with both its strength and its suddenness. He should have been more prepared for it, considering he’s known all along how this night would end. From the second they entered the room, this moment has loomed ever closer, building steadily even before then — over the course of the entire day, while Yuri’s blood smoldered with frustration and disappointment, scent seeping out so his foul mood could not be mistaken for anything other than unfulfilled lust. It shouldn’t take him by surprise because it’s what he’s wanted since they left the lounge last night, what he’s craved, if he could only force himself to admit it, since that first night in Beijing ten months ago.

But it hits him all at once in a relentless crash that knocks the world out from under him. JJ thrusts harder still, but shallowly, his knot catching on every torturous drag out, fitting back into place with another sharp crest of pleasure. Yuri’s mouth opens around a hoarse cry against JJ’s jaw. His back arches and his head falls against the bed, long hair caught beneath his shoulders.

JJ’s hips stutter erratically and he follows Yuri over the edge just four thrusts later. He grabs onto Yuri’s thigh with a come smeared hand, gripping hard enough to bruise as he holds the leg in place over his hip. His other arm threatens to give out, trembling with the strain of holding himself up, palm no longer flat against the mattress but grasping the sheet with tense fingers, catching strands of Yuri’s hair between them.

When JJ sinks in deep a final time, Yuri only has a moment to see his face. Silver-blue eyes, fever bright and glassy, gaze down at him as if JJ has never see anything so perfect in all the world. JJ tenses first, then it all seeps from his body, his expression suddenly open and vulnerable; every last trace of his typical arrogance vanishes in a heartbeat. His lips part, gasping for air, and he curses so softly it could be another prayer.

“ _Fuck_ …”

Yuri was wrong before — or his heart knew what was right but he was living in denial, spouting falsehoods to himself every chance he got, and relying on a brain that enables all his worst impulses.

This _means_ something. It’s always meant something — more than a juvenile rivalry gone idle with age, their passion redirected, searching for another means of release. In the blink of an eye, all of Yuri’s feeble attempts to keep things casual no longer hold any sway. All of the lies he’s told himself since that first night in Beijing pale to the point of inconsequence next to the truth. All of the dreams he’s forced himself to ignore in the aftermath, never letting himself hope for long, shift forward and morph into something real. That image of a hollow, insignificant affair cracks and shatters into dust.

Once they’ve parted ways and returned home, half a world away from one another, Yuri might reexamine their boundaries and withdraw just enough to curb the unease born from distance and solitude. Some of the denial might resurge and wrap around his heart in another protective barrier, but it will never be as it once was. At most, it will be nothing more than habit, a tired routine meant to fill the months of waiting, until the day comes when he can look into JJ’s eyes and see that soft reverence again.

Yuri whites out, his senses overloading. He exists as a body and nothing else, immersed in a realm of unbridled pleasure, so powerful and limitless it transcends everything he ever imagined knotting could be. The only thing he can feel is JJ’s weight against him, skin warm and slick with sweat, knot stretching him to his limits. The only thing he can smell is JJ’s scent surrounding him; the bedding is drenched with it, but it continues to pour from JJ like a flood, so potent now that the smell of cologne and cigarette smoke are completely lost beneath it. The only taste on Yuri’s tongue is the softness of JJ’s lips, the rasp of his stubble, and the salt of his flesh. The only things he can hear are the muffled praises whispered into his neck, words like “beautiful” and “perfect,” and “so good, baby.”

Some instinct in Yuri glows softly, unfurling from a tender place in his heart he never knew existed. He revels in the attention, opening to it so effortlessly he may as well abandon every last one of his defenses. If he had any room left for thought, he would think himself a disgrace.

Consciousness eventually returns to him, but the process is slow. Yuri’s arms lie limp against the mattress. His legs remain open, splayed weakly, and racked with barely there tremors. He blinks tiredly, his vision hazy and slow to clear, still white along the edges, as if everything occurs behind a veil. The room seems so far away, like something inside of him has detached from reality, his brain too sluggish to bring everything back into alignment.

The first thing Yuri registers with any clarity is JJ taking his wrist, raising it to his mouth, and pressing his lip to Yuri’s tattoo.

Then the world slams back into focus, and all Yuri can concentrate on are the minor discomforts that make themselves known. When he winces against the lamplight and turns his head away from it, a stray hairpin digs into the back of his scalp. Yuri lifts a hand to remove it, but his arm flops back onto the bed, heavy and useless as he recovers. His heartbeats hammers away in his ears; for a while, the deafening thump-thump-thump drowns out everything JJ attempts to say to him. Once it finally slows, Yuri becomes aware of his own breathing, loud and erratic as he struggles to catch his breath.

He would be humiliated by it if he had enough energy left to feel anything, to experience an emotion other than absolute contentment. 

It must be obvious to JJ that many of his sexual experiences until now have been lacking in such a significant way, but for once JJ doesn’t appear cocky or amused. When Yuri blinks the last of the white haze from his vision, he takes in JJ’s shining eyes and flushed face, and the smile curving his mouth — wide but soft, something unlike his usual shit-eating grins. 

The difference is in the eyebrows, Yuri decides. They always arch and tilt whenever JJ acts smug. At the moment, there isn’t any tension in his brow at all. He looks young and sweet and completely unguarded.

“You okay?” JJ asks, voice barely more than a whisper, like he can’t bear to disturb the peaceful silence.

“Mmm,” Yuri says, too tired to form proper words yet.

He shifts again to dislodge the troublesome pin, rolling his head from side to side in the hopes of easing it out of place. When that doesn’t work, Yuri arches his neck and stretches, but his back curves with the movement and his hips tilt down, grinding on JJ’s knot. Yuri gasps and his vision blurs, going misty and white around the periphery. He shivers and grinds down again, seeking the ripples of pleasure beneath the ache of overstimulation.

“Careful,” JJ cautions him, grabbing Yuri’s hip to keep him still.

“‘s good,” Yuri tries to say, but his voice is rough and slurred, and he can’t be sure any of the words coming out of his mouth actually make sense.

“Shhh. It’s okay.”

JJ kisses Yuri’s forehead, then nuzzles into his cheek. His hand massages Yuri’s hip before rising to his waist, petting a soothing rhythm against Yuri’s side. He stares into Yuri’s eyes with another soft smile — not a smirk or one of his lopsided grins, or a pompous flash of his perfect teeth, but something small and delicate, a smile so rare on JJ’s face it almost seems foreign.

“Is this—”

JJ cuts himself off, brow furrowing slightly, smile quickly dipping into a frown. His eyes shine with curiosity but he holds it back, shaking the thought away as if he’s deemed it irrelevant.

But Yuri knows what he means to ask.

_“Is this the first time anyone’s knotted you?”_

Yuri doesn’t answer, and JJ doesn’t try to bring it up again.

After forcing himself to gulp down some air, Yuri sinks into the mattress and shuts his eyes. The aftereffects continue to fade. His legs stop trembling, but he won’t risk standing for quite some time. His labored breathing improves, transitioning into little hiccuping breaths that last for a few minutes at most, before those come to an end, too, and he can breathe naturally again. His heartbeat returns to normal, no longer filling his ears with the rush of his own blood. His limbs remain heavy and useless, but that hardly seems to matter when Yuri has no plans to leave until morning.

JJ presses slow, sweet kisses to Yuri’s face the entire time, from his temple to his cheek to the tip of his nose, from his chin to his jaw to the soft space beneath Yuri’s ear.

“You smell like a dream,” he says.

His cock begins to soften, his knot waning with it. Yuri regrets the loss and instinctively angles his hips for more, but JJ holds him steady, so Yuri settles back to savor those last few moments.

He never knew sex could be like this, that it could end in such a profound way. Certainly he’s had some idea of what knotting is like; Mila and Viktor have never been shy about sharing details, particularly when Yuri didn’t want them. Even if they hadn’t overshared, Lilia ensured that Yuri received a comprehensive education in matters of sex and sexuality. _“You should have a thorough understanding of your own body,”_ she always said, whether that body was on the ice, in the dance studio, or in bed with someone else.

But, as with many other instances in life, knowledge meant nothing without experience. When all of his previous sexual encounters ended either with Otabek immediately rolling away or Yuri pushing JJ off before they could become too comfortable, it was difficult to imagine anything else. 

He didn’t expect such a deep sense of completion. Rather than pushing JJ away, Yuri considers how he might go about keeping him right where he is.

 _Mine_ , he thinks. _He’s mine._

“So was it worth the wait?” JJ asks, lips ghosting along Yuri’s neck.

It takes Yuri a few attempts to get his mouth working again. When he finally does, all he manages to say is a soft, breathy, “... yeah.”

JJ’s mouth twitches against Yuri’s skin, quirking into a smirk. Fighting through the fatigue, Yuri lifts a hand and strikes the back of JJ’s shoulder. The smack is loud in an otherwise quiet room, but it draws nothing more than a chuckle from JJ — a sound that resonates through his chest, escaping in short wisps of air against Yuri’s jaw.

“Fuck off,” Yuri complains, wedging his arms between them to attempt a weak shove.

JJ adjusts his position, knees steadying against the bed. Now that his knot has deflated enough, his cock slips out. Yuri groans another complaint and smacks at JJ’s chest. JJ puts his weight back onto his forearms, sinking one hand into Yuri’s hair. He leans in so their mouths connect in a slow press of lips and a gentle caress of tongues.

Yuri sighs into it, hands rising back to either side of JJ’s face. He lets himself enjoy the contrast of tender kisses and rough stubble, but he breaks away with a groan before long. His face must be a disaster of smeared makeup and irritated skin.

With a stern glare learned from Lilia, Yuri presses his hands more firmly against JJ’s face and says, “You have to do something about this. Shave it off, or grow it out more and use a fucking conditioner. You’re murdering my face.”

JJ smirks again and nips at Yuri’s chin. “What would you like me to do?”

“Why the fuck would I care?”

“You’re the one who has to kiss me.”

“I don’t _have_ to do anything,” Yuri counters.

He pushes against JJ’s chest, heaving him away until there’s enough room to turn on his side and present JJ with his back, a vindictive move Yuri immediately ruins by yanking JJ’s arm over his waist, pulling him in for a snuggle.

JJ spoons against him and chuckles into the curve of Yuri’s neck and shoulder. “But you will.”

Yuri snorts derisively and says nothing. JJ might not be wrong, but Yuri sure as hell won’t admit it.

The arm over his waist moves, drifting up to card gentle fingers through Yuri’s hair. JJ draws it away from Yuri’s face, smoothing it back, finding the last stubborn pin at the base of Yuri’s skull. He fishes it out and tosses it onto the nightstand, then settles back down to drag his stubbled chin over Yuri’s shoulder.

“Bella never liked facial hair,” he says.

Yuri scoffs and jabs his elbow into JJ’s stomach. Hearing that name uttered in a moment like this draws out a burst of anger that bubbles like acid in Yuri’s gut, burning through his chest with jealousy and resentment for companions. At the same time, a warm ball of satisfaction takes shape under Yuri’s sternum near his heart.

He was right all along. _This_ JJ never belonged to Isabella.

“Then grow it out,” Yuri grumbles, and because he doesn’t want JJ assuming the thought of him with a proper beard appeals to Yuri in any way, he makes sure to add, “Just don’t let it get gross and long. I won’t kiss you at all if you do.”

JJ bites Yuri’s shoulder, not so hard as to leave a mark, but sharp enough that the sting of it lingers.

The conversation lapses into silence. Yuri closes his eyes against the lamplight and basks in the tranquil air. He turns his head and touches his nose to one of the pillows, drawing JJ’s scent into his lungs again. JJ smiles into Yuri’s neck and copies the gesture, releasing a warm sigh into the hair behind Yuri’s ear.

A smattering of kisses dot along Yuri’s naked skin — over the slope of his jaw, behind the shell of his ear, down the length of his neck, where his pulse thrums against JJ’s lips. All the while, JJ skims his fingers through Yuri’s hair, starting at his hairline and sliding back to the crown of his head.

Yuri could drift like this all night, fall asleep and not wake for hours. His sweat cools fast in the chill of the room, thighs and stomach sticky with come, but just the thought of getting up to shower exhausts him. JJ is a warm, comforting presence at his back, exuding contentment with every breath. Yuri’s scent must be nearly identical; he would attempt to restrain it, if only to stop JJ’s ego from growing out of control, but he can’t make himself care at the moment. Nothing else matters except that he’s comfortable and sated.

Then JJ ruins it by nipping at Yuri’s neck, murmuring, “I had a thought.”

Yuri almost doesn’t answer. He finds speaking almost as tiresome as moving, but he forces himself to ask, “What’s that?”

“Well…” JJ nibbles at Yuri’s pulse. “You want a baby, and I always meant to have another kid.”

As soon as the statement registers in Yuri’s brain, his heart drops straight out of his chest. He tenses, eyes snapping open, suddenly wide awake as a shot of adrenaline lifts the fog of weariness. Yuri thrusts his elbow back harder this time, pushing JJ away to give himself enough space to roll onto his back. His expression must show his shock, but he can’t smooth it out.

Tongue so clumsy he could swallow it, Yuri asks, “Are you insane?”

How many times has he asked that now?

JJ laughs but doesn’t joke around this time, answering with a short, serious, “No.”

Yuri’s mouth goes dry. His throat tightens with an emotion he can’t identify. Shock, perhaps. Or terror. Maybe confusion. Certainly he experiences some combination of the three, cycling through them in quick succession until they all blend together in a dizzying swirl. But once the initial panic begins to fade away, he’s left with a sharp pain in his chest where his heart used to be, throbbing in time with a beat that no longer exists. With the pain comes longing, jealousy, and the stupid sense of despair that always materializes when he contemplates his future.

He can’t let himself consider this. He pushed the fantasies away with Otabek’s rejection, shoved them far back into the dark recesses of his brain where they couldn’t complicate things with JJ. Even now, everything about their relationship is still too new, too uncertain. It would be utterly ridiculous to add a baby into the mix. Yuri may have done plenty of reckless things over the years, but those were lesser matters. Having a baby requires more thought and careful planning.

“What the fuck makes you think that’s a good idea?”

“The fact that we’re good together,” JJ says.

“We’re not _together_ ,” Yuri argues, voice taking on a slightly hysterical tone. “We’ve fucked _four_ times.”

“Six times. Or more, actually. I guess it really depends on what you considering fucking. I’ve definitely had my dick in you six times.”

Yuri sputters and punches JJ’s shoulder. “Four nights then, okay? With long breaks in between.”

JJ grins and catches Yuri’s fist, pressing a kiss to his knuckles. “So?”

“So I don’t even date,” Yuri says, snatching his hand away.

“We don’t have to date,” JJ counters. “Dating’s what people do when they’re getting to know each other. We already know each other. We’ve known each other for nine years.”

“Seven.”

“Nine. We met your first year in Juniors.”

Yuri clicks his tongue in annoyance. “That barely counts. We didn’t even talk.”

“Hey, I tried. You were the moody little brat who didn’t feel like being polite.”

“And _you_ were an insufferable, pretentious piece of shit.”

JJ’s lifts his gaze to the ceiling, tipping his head from side to side as he considers the comment. Then he shrugs and meets Yuri’s eye again, completely unconcerned. “Okay, so we got off on the wrong foot. I think we’re doing pretty good now. More mature. Surprisingly compatible.”

With a snort and a roll of his eyes, Yuri says, “That’s a stretch.”

“We’re both water signs. We’ll be perfect.”

Yuri whacks at JJ’s chest harder than before. “What the _fuck_ , JJ. You can’t use bullshit astrology as an excuse to have a baby.”

“Then what about this?” JJ leans over him, grabbing Yuri’s hands to lace their fingers together. He stares Yuri in the eye with such a look of undeniable sincerity that Yuri almost shrinks away. “I want you.”

“Obviously,” Yuri scoffs, but its a weak effort at best.

“I don’t think you heard me,” JJ says. He tightens his grip, voice deep and earnest when he repeats himself. “I _want_ you.”

 _Mine_ , Yuri thinks. _He’s mine. He wants me._

“I’m not talking about a couple of flings,” JJ continues. “I want a relationship with you. I want to make out whenever the mood strikes. I want to cuddle up in bed or on the couch. I want to have sex, and if that’s in hotel rooms for a while, then it’s in hotel rooms. If it’s in Saint Petersburg or Montreal, or anywhere. I want to hold your hand. I want to take you out to dinner. I want to talk to you more than the scattered texting we’ve been doing. I want to talk _about_ you, because you’re incredible and gorgeous and you make me feel alive for the first time since my injury.”

“But you were—”

“I know.”

He was married when he was injured. He should have been in love with his wife, should have turned to her for everything that was missing from his life, but it wasn’t enough.

Yuri draws in a stuttering breath. “JJ…”

JJ smiles softly and shakes his head, releasing one of Yuri’s hands to cup his face instead. “I want to introduce you to my parents.”

“I’ve already met your parents,” Yuri reminds him. Focusing on that is easier when the rest of it unnerves him. What the fuck is he supposed to say? “They’ve been around my entire career. I know your sister, for fuck’s sake.”

“You know my parents as my coaches, and they know you as my rival. I want to stand in front of them and say, ‘This is Yuri, and he’s mine.’”

 _He’s mine_.

Yuri stops breathing for a moment. He couldn’t help but question JJ’s intentions before; for all the talking they did last night, they didn’t discuss their relationship in anything but a cursory manner. He can’t question anything now, not with JJ saying these things, not with him looking at Yuri like he’s never been more sure of anything in his life.

And it’s so _tempting_. Far more so than Yuri could have prepared himself for. This is JJ, the vain, pompous brute of a skater who began their competitive encounters by mercilessly teasing Yuri. The senseless asshole and stereotypically smug alpha Yuri would have been glad to have out of his hair, at least until JJ was gone, and Yuri realized he’d grown to depend on JJ’s presence. Even now, it shouldn’t be so difficult to turn JJ down, to laugh in his face at the very idea of a serious relationship, rooted as it is in previously unfulfilled and oft denied attraction — and spite, because Yuri wanted the upper hand against JJ’s wife.

But every argument Yuri makes sounds weak even to his own ears. He knew what he wanted the moment he woke up this morning. All that remains is for him to get to the point where he can say it out loud.

“We live in two different countries on opposite sides of the world,” he says. “You have a daughter. Your divorce isn’t even over yet. Your wife hates me and everyone else will think we’re fucking insane. And we _are_. This shit is complicated enough without adding a baby on top of it.”

“It’s only complicated if we make it complicated,” JJ argues. “If we don’t _talk_ to each other.”

JJ strokes a hand over Yuri’s hair. The rough pads of his fingers skate across Yuri’s forehead. He looks and sounds so unperturbed, as if what he’s proposing isn’t completely absurd. He must be more fucked in the head than Yuri thought if he’s willing to suggest this with a straight face.

Of course they can’t have a baby. There’s nothing rational about it, no matter what other bullshit arguments JJ has in store.

But that one comment worms its way into Yuri’s brain.

_“If we don’t talk to each other.”_

JJ never talked to his wife, if everything he told Yuri last night is to be believed; and Yuri _does_ believe him, even if his skeptical nature makes trust a difficult thing to bestow upon anyone. JJ and Isabella left their anger and doubt to silence. They watched their relationship crumble around them because they were too scared, or too unsure, or too young and inexperienced to know better.

Yuri never talked to Otabek either, not about the things that mattered most — the things that might have eased a bit of the heartache and bitterness before either had the chance to set in. The outcome wouldn’t have changed, but if they’d made an effort to sit down and have a conversation, maybe they could have avoided all the tension that’s kept them from being the sort of friends they used to be.

But there’s only so much good that can do, isn’t there? Being able to discuss their feelings with one another can’t be the only thing that makes a couple suitable for parenthood.

“Shouldn’t you find yourself another wife before you have more kids?” Yuri sneers.

JJ releases a short laugh on the next gusty exhale through his nose. “Are you offering?”

Yuri walked right into that one, but he still tenses up, and the widening of his eyes is beyond his control. He must look horrified, because JJ laughs exuberantly before leaning down to plant a kiss onto the furrow between Yuri’s eyebrows.

“I’ve done marriage before,” JJ says when he pulls back. “I’m not in any rush to do it again.”

After one shock, then another, the sentiment is far from reassuring. Yuri forces air back into his lungs. When his body loosens enough for him to move without any awkward jerking, Yuri retaliates with another hard whack to JJ’s shoulder.

JJ catches Yuri’s hand again and places the next kiss against Yuri’s palm. “Look, this doesn’t have to mean forever. Maybe this’ll last. Maybe it won’t. It doesn’t matter. We can sign whatever legal crap we have to as a safeguard if you want, but I’m not gonna dump a kid on you if we don’t work out for whatever reason. I’ll still support you and a baby any way you’ll let me.”

“JJ, that’s—”

“People co-parent all the time,” JJ cuts him off, kissing each of Yuri’s fingertips. “Either they’re divorced, or they never got married to begin with. Friends have kids with each other. It’s not a big deal.”

 _Not a big deal_ , he says, like a baby wouldn’t change their entire fucking lives.

JJ leans down until their mouths touch in their gentlest kiss yet, barely more than a momentary brush of lips.

When they part, Yuri gazes into JJ’s face — at the strands of his mussed hair falling over his forehead; at his thick eyebrows and the crystalline blue of his eager eyes; at his lips, swollen from their impassioned kissing; at the tiny freckle on his cheekbone. Yuri lifts his hand and touches a finger to it, drawing a line down JJ’s face, over the stubble to JJ’s jaw.

He’s so handsome in such a devastating way. His every word seeps from Yuri’s brain into his heart, which fits back into place in his chest, where JJ’s voice rouses all those recently broken fantasies Yuri thought he’d put to rest.

He can have a baby on his own like he planned, or he can have a baby with someone who actually means something to him.

“Do you want to be with me?” JJ asks. “ _Officially_.”

Yuri clamps his mouth shut around an answer.

 _Yes_ , he wants that, because JJ makes him feel alive, too. _No_ , he doesn’t want it, because it still seems impossible that anything of value should from from this. But yes again, because it feels so right. It feels true and good and _real_.

And Yuri _knows_ it’s stupid. He knows how dangerous these things can be. He knows everything he’s risking simply by being involved like this. Months from now, or even weeks or days, everything could fall apart. If not soon, then surely somewhere in the future. Maybe they’ll last longer than Yuri expects, but at some point their relationship is bound to be tested.

With all of their history, Yuri can’t be sure they’ll come out of it unscathed. How could they? Easier relationships than theirs have failed. They’ve both proven that already.

“I’m not going to share with someone else,” he grumbles.

“You’re literally the second person I’ve ever been with,” JJ says. “What makes you think I’d sleep around?”

Yuri shrugs and glares into the lamplight until his eyes burn.

“So is that a yes?” JJ asks.

“It’s not a no,” Yuri allows.

“Okay. That’s fine. I can work with that.”

Yuri scoffs again and shoves at JJ’s chest, just so JJ knows he’s not about to turn into some sweet, blushing cliché of an omega.

Soft lips create a path down his neck, following the line of his pulse. JJ dips his tongue between Yuri’s collar bones, then sucks another mark into his skin, right at the top of Yuri’s sternum. He mouths over Yuri’s chest until he finds a nipple, teasing it with slow swipes of his tongue and the gentle scrape of teeth. Yuri forces down a gasp, back lifting into the slightest curve.

JJ diverts his attention to Yuri’s other nipple, mumbling around it, “You’d look hot.”

“What?” Yuri says, cursing the wheeze that follows. His voice should not be so breathy already, nor should his body succumb to another surge of arousal so quickly.

“You’d look hot pregnant,” JJ clarifies.

“What are you, a fucking weirdo with a pregnancy kink?”

Warm puffs of air fan along Yuri’s chest with JJ’s laughter. “Only when the baby’s mine.”

JJ’s scent ignites with desire. Yuri draws in it, writhing beneath him as it fills his lungs. It’s intoxicating even now, on a bed completely saturated with it. Again, Yuri _wants_. Again, desire leaves him dizzy, head spinning and body trembling. His knees would buckle if he stood, legs still wobbly from his first orgasm.

A mouth trails down Yuri’s chest. Hands traces his ribs. JJ shifts lower, probing Yuri’s navel with his tongue.

“Think about it,” JJ murmurs against his fluttering stomach.

Yuri has to will his heart not to jump to any stupid decisions. If it were any other dumb idea, he could reject it outright, or argue with such spirit JJ would have no choice but to back down. But this is _different_. This has always been different, the same way JJ has always been different. It’s stupid and senseless and Yuri _hates_ it. He hates that even though he’s questioned it and offered his weak rebuttals, he hasn’t been able to say “no.” 

Even if he knows he should. Even if his brain is screaming at him, stressing all the reasons why it’s an absolutely terrible idea.

By the time JJ’s mouth reaches Yuri’s pelvis, sucking several more bruises into Yuri’s hips and thighs, logic has almost been completely drowned out by the hope and longing blooming within Yuri’s heart.

He shuts his eyes while JJ makes a feast out of his cock; for a man with even less experience with sucking dick than Yuri, JJ takes to the task like he’s been yearning to have a dick in his mouth since his very first sexual encounter. When Yuri’s legs part of their own accord, JJ grasps his thighs and holds them open. Their coupling was rushed before, but this time is thorough. JJ pulls him apart gradually. Every suck, every lick, every moan, every interlude spent kissing Yuri’s thighs, stroking hands up Yuri’s sides, every second of it is unhurried and methodical. JJ’s hands don’t stop moving until he has Yuri moaning uncontrollably, head lolling as he sinks his fingers into JJ’s tousled hair, begging without words for JJ to take him over the edge.

JJ holds Yuri’s hip, forcing him to still. The other hand falls between Yuri’s legs, teasing his sore hole before fingering him deep and leisurely, until Yuri is soaked with slick and shuddering with need.

He comes down JJ’s throat, around his searching fingers. Without JJ’s knot, Yuri’s second orgasm is not as intense as the first, but the slow rise and rapid fall make it just as satisfying. JJ kisses Yuri’s stomach through the aftershocks, rising only when Yuri finds the strength to grab at him and haul him up, sealing their mouths together to taste himself on JJ’s tongue.

Yuri strokes JJ’s cock until JJ comes in his hand, moans muffled against Yuri’s shoulder.

Then they sleep, spooning close. Yuri drifts off as soon as JJ settles behind him, strong arm draped back over his waist. It takes no time at all for his mind and body to shut down. The last sound to reach his ears is the deep, even cadence of JJ’s breathing.

The room is sweltering with the remnants of passion when Yuri closes his eyes, but the growing chill wakes him minutes or hours later — it’s hard to tell when he’s paid no attention to the time. All that keeps him warm is a thin sheet and JJ’s body heat. The lamp remains lit, its harsh light blinding to Yuri’s tired eyes.

He stumbles out of bed and trips into the bathroom, legs weak from two rounds of sex and inadequate sleep. He knows he should shower, or at the very least wash the makeup from his face, but Yuri does neither. After using the toilet, he finds a washcloth and soaks it with water to clean up the worst of the mess from his stomach and thighs.

Shivering on his way back to bed, Yuri searches the room for something to wear. His clothes are scattered about — blazer and dress shirt by the door, leggings somewhere out of sight, probably hiding over the other side of the bed. Yuri retrieves his phone but leaves the rest where it is, stealing a University of Toronto hoodie from an armchair. The fabric is a bit faded and worn, but Yuri when pulls it on he discovers its softness and warmth. The hoodie smells as strongly of JJ as the sheets do.

Yuri pauses by the side of the bed before climbing back in.

JJ sleeps on his back, chest rising and falling in time with each breath. He looks particularly serene in slumber — lips parted ever so slightly, lashes dark atop his cheekbones, thick brows at ease and forehead smooth, with no sign of tension on his slack face. His head turns toward the vacancy Yuri left on the mattress, hands at rest against his chest, one above the other.

It isn’t difficult to imagine JJ reclining like this at home in Montreal, with Melody fast asleep on top of him.

Unbidden, Yuri’s thoughts change course. A memory surfaces — new, but one Yuri knows he’ll favor for quite some time: the image of JJ at the banquet, marveling over pictures of Melody, Karina, Pavel, and Lidiya, staring into Yuri’s eyes with a glimmer of awe.

That was the sort of expression Yuri always wanted to see grace Otabek’s face when he thought about their future together, what he fantasized about every time he considered what their children might look like.

JJ’s eyes flutter open, and a slow smile spreads across his face. “You look good in my clothes.”

The butterflies take flight again. They always do when Yuri hears that low, sleepy voice.

“It’s freezing,” Yuri complains.

JJ says nothing more, simply holds an arm out in invitation.

In a rare show of genuine fondness, Yuri doesn’t scoff or rolls his eyes. He drops his phone onto the nightstand, turns off the lamp, and crawls into bed. After pulling the sheet and blanket over them both, he settles down against JJ, who presses another kiss to Yuri’s forehead and winds an arm around him.

They sleep until rays of morning sunlight stream through the gap in the drapes. At first, they laze about in the stillness, quiet and peaceful as they exchange kisses but no words. Their hands make idle explorations, more to enjoy the feel of warm skin than to arouse. Then they both seem to arrive at the same conclusion, and their actions become more deliberate as they fully wake to take advantage of their last few hours together.

Yuri rides JJ, hips rolling slow but taking his cock deep, until they’re both desperate for release and JJ’s hands grab him with bruising force. JJ doesn’t ask if he can knot him this time; as soon as Yuri comes, JJ’s hips snap up into him, hard and frantic until they’re locked together again.

When Yuri whites out, he lets himself drift back to the image of the little boy he once yearned for — the one with dark hair and eyes, mouth tipped into a surly frown.

It might not be so bad, he decides, if that little boy has thick eyebrows and a wide smile instead.

Or maybe the child isn’t a boy, but a little girl like Lidiya, and Luna, and Karina, and Melody, with gorgeous blue eyes, rosy cheeks, and bright, mischievous laughter.

Later, Yuri returns to his room to pack his things, still wrapped in JJ’s hoodie, with JJ’s wedding ring dangling from his necklace. As he tosses random items into his suitcase, dreading the next few months without his lover, Yuri pauses to consider his birth control.

He chooses not to take it, shoving the packet of pills far down beneath his clothes, where it remains until he tosses it into the trash at home.

* * *

 **JJ Gossip** @jjgossipwhore - 34m

My heart is broken

[A link to an article with a headline that reads: “Love is officially dead. JJ Leroy and wife Isabella Yang are heading for divorce.”]

5:15 PM - 12 Dec 2022

51 Retweets       149 Likes

  


**forever mrs. leroy** @totalbabe1213 - 26m

Replying to @jjgossipwhore

This picture looks even more suspicious now

[The banquet selfie Yuri posted onto Instagram.]

  


**Lex @gpf hype** @fluffmasterxd - 23m

Don’t forget this one

[The picture of JJ and Yuri walking through the restaurant parking lot, JJ’s hand looking quite comfortable along Yuri’s back.]  


 

 **forever mrs. leroy** @totalbabe1213 - 20m

You think they were having an affair?

[The selfie JJ posted of he and Yuri during practice for the Cup of China.]

 

 **Lex @gpf hype** @fluffmasterxd - 15m

I mean all this stuff looks super sketchy

[A picture from Mila and Sara’s wedding. Mila and Sara are sharing their first dance, gazing lovingly into each other’s eyes, which should be the focus of the picture, but as the crowd is visible in the background, certain eagle eyed fans seem to have spotted something else. A bright red circle has been added to draw attention to JJ and Yuri, who stand a little too close to one another, exchanging an uncertain glance. One of JJ’s hands is hidden behind Yuri, potentially on his back again.]  
  


**JJ’s Girl** @babyb00luv - 13m

At most they’re boning

Long time rivals having aggressive hate sex

  


**Lex @gpf hype** @fluffmasterxd - 9m

It doesn’t look like hate to me

Siiiiiiiiiiiiigh

I mean the article says JJ and Isabella have been done for a while but

Idk  
  
 

 **Yulia** @bloggerqueen0_0 - 2m

Lol wtf Yurochka

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Comments and kudos are amazing~!


	4. If You Ask Me To

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Yuri lets people know he's dating JJ. Then he pines a lot but pretends he isn't pining at all, because pining is gross.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **Changes to Chapter 4 include:** very minor edits to the introductory blog post; minor expansion to the original social media posts, plus the addition of a new one; minor changes to some pieces of dialogue, but otherwise all the conversations are the same; a few dates and days of the week were changed to align with my calendar. This chapter required very little work, so the changes might not even be that noticeable, but the last scene should make it a little more clear that Yuri has shifted from “I hate Isabella because she was always such a bitch to me” to “that bitch hurt my man and fists are going to fly the next time I see her.” Once again I've left all text messages as text because I'm lazy and I'm trying to get the chapters that won't change much finished asap.

"Used to be that I believed in something,  
Used to be that I believed in love.  
It's been a long time since I've had that feeling,  
I could love someone,  
I could trust someone.  
  
I said I'd never let nobody near my heart again, darlin',  
I said I'd never let nobody in..."  
  
- ["If You Ask Me To" by Celine Dion](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=1bKuXbnGDqI)

* * *

 

 

> **The Tiger’s Den**
> 
> Home          [About](https://imgur.com/ed7Svya)          Cats          Personal          Yurochka
> 
>  
> 
> **I’m really just a jealous bitch**
> 
> POSTED ON 12 DECEMBER 2022
> 
>  
> 
> I want to have a baby.
> 
> There. My deepest, darkest secret has finally been revealed to you. (I think you’ve gotten hints of it over the years, but this is the first time I’ve ever written “If I don’t have a baby sometime within the next two years, I think I might die from disappointment.”)
> 
> This is my greatest shame. I’m supposed to be this angry, cold-hearted bitch, ready to tear people to shreds the moment they expose themselves as they fuckers they are (which is pretty much 85% of the world’s population).
> 
> But babies make me feel soft. They make my insides all warm and gooey. It’s so fucking stupid. Why is this happening to me? Why why why? This is terrible. My reputation will never be the same.
> 
> Every time I so much as imply that I want a baby to anyone offline, people look at me like, “But, Yulia… what the fuck???”
> 
> Hey. Fuck you. What the fuck is wrong with that?
> 
> These are some of the same people who would have pulled the “you’ll change your mind when you’re older” shit back when I used to think kids were the spawn of Satan. Now they’re going to act like I’m stupid for having a different opinion.
> 
> Isn’t this what they wanted??? Shouldn’t they be latching on to my change of heart as proof that all the bullshit they fed me before was accurate???
> 
> Trust me, nothing pains me more than knowing any of you fuckers can say “I told you so.”
> 
> Fuck off. You told me nothing. All you did was repeat the same sexist shit over and over again.
> 
> So _what_ if I changed my damned mind??? It happens. You know what also happens??? Some people _don’t_ change their minds. Because _guess what_. Life is weird as fuck and no two people are the same (although, in my experience, most of them share a general element of douchebaggery). There’s nothing wrong with either decision, so mind your own fucking business and leave me the fuck alone.
> 
> But yes, fuck it. I want to have a baby.
> 
> I want to have a baby so much, sometimes when I wake up in the middle of the night and can’t get back to sleep because I’m sad and lonely and impatient, I spend hours researching sperms banks online. I mostly do it when I’m exhausted and still somewhat out of it, so later I can pretend it was a dream and I don’t actually have a preference.
> 
> Once I bought a baby outfit because it was cute and there were cats all over it, and instead of offering it as a gift for my nephew or one of my nieces, I hid it away at the bottom of my dresser for my future offspring.
> 
> I’ve given my brother and sister-in-law gift cards to nice restaurants and told them I’ll watch the kids while they go out for a dinner date, but not because I want to give my brother and sister-in-law some alone time. (Gross.) Nope, I do it because _I_ want time alone with their babies.
> 
> I bought a book over the summer. “The Single Omega’s Guide to Childrearing.” I read it in a day and a half. I still keep it in my nightstand drawer where people usually keep their condoms and sex toys. (Do _I_ keep my condoms and sex toys there? Idk mind your own fucking business.) I have a few passages marked with sticky notes for future reference.
> 
> Fuck me and my life and everything, honestly.
> 
> I shouldn’t compare wanting a baby to wanting a cat because it’s way more involved than that, but you know how when your cat does something stupid and you’re like “you’re the cutest fucker I’ve ever seen,” or you’re out and you see a stray cat somewhere and suddenly you would give anything to take that cat home and feed it and love it and protect it and take care of it for the rest of its life because cats are perfect and innocent and you can’t imagine why anyone would neglect them or hurt them or abandon them????
> 
> Okay, well, that’s me with cats, at least. And also me with babies. It’s been that way for almost five years now, and I feel like I’m either going to spontaneously combust or do something really stupid.
> 
> Like have sex off my birth control and leave it all up to chance.
> 
> Fuck fuck fuck.
> 
> Fuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuck. Why am I like this?
> 
> IN MY DEFENSE MY BOYFRIEND IS AN ENABLER.
> 
> Did I mention I have a boyfriend now???
> 
> Did I mention he’s really hot??????????
> 
> I know what you’re going to say: “Pics or it didn’t happen.” 
> 
> Shut the fuck up. He’s a very private person so I’m not sharing anything without his permission.
> 
> “A likely excuse,” you say.
> 
> Fuck off.
> 
>  
> 
> TAGGED: Personal, Yulia is a dumbfuck

* * *

[A selfie of Yuri at what appears to be an airport. He has a to-go cup of tea raised as if preparing to take a sip, so a good portion of the lower half of his face is covered, but there are still some small, visible areas of irritation. From the look in his eyes, one can assume he’s in a good mood; he might even be hiding a smile behind his cup.]

**33,076 likes**

**yuri_plisetsky** Goodbye Colorado Springs. It’s been fun. #gpf2022 #coloradosprings #winner #gold #travel

 **+guanghongji+** COME BACK SOON I MISS YOU ALREADY  
**yuri_plisetsky** @+guanghongji+ Why don’t you come to Saint Petersburg?  
**+guanghongji+** @yuri_plisetsky And travel with a baby????????  
**yuri_plisetsky** @+guanghongji+ People do it all the time  
**+guanghongji+** @yuri_plisetsky But imagine what a hassle it would be!  
**yuri_plisetsky** @+guanghongji+ Am I not worth it???  
**+guanghongji+** @yuri_plisetsky …  
**yuri_plisetsky** @+guanghongji+ Bitch  
**Jjleroy!15** Have a safe flight, be good, don’t do anything I wouldn’t do, etc etc etc  
**yuri_plisetsky** @Jjleroy!15 You’d do a lot though wouldn’t you?  
**Jjleroy!15** @yuri_plisetsky Probably yeah  
**yuri_plisetsky** @Jjleroy!15 Hypocrite  
**Jjleroy!15** @yuri_plisetsky Not “have a safe flight too JJ”?  
**yuri_plisetsky** @Jjleroy!15 Don’t crash and die or whatever  
**georgipopo** Pavel and Lidiya miss you!  
**yuri_plisetsky** @georgipopo And you don’t?  
**georgipopo** @yuri_plisetsky Of course but you don’t usually care  
**yuri_plisetsky** @georgipopo True  
**phichit+chu** Are you by chance hiding a smile with that cup?  
**yuri_plisetsky** @phichit+chu Maybe I have a pimple the size of jupiter on my chin

DECEMBER 12

* * *

Yuri has never stared at his trash can so intently.

There’s absolutely nothing remarkable about it. He bought one in a basic black plastic, because white shows too much dirt, stainless steel looks stupid in trash can form, especially in his old kitchen, and every other color Yuri’s ever found when he actually cares to look at trash cans has been revolting. Like turquoise. Or lime green. Or the same color brown as cat shit. Yuri doesn’t clean his as much as he knows he should; looking at it too closely will reveal a couple of crusty stains on the lid. Occasionally, he’s too lazy to take the trash out when it gets full, and the lid won’t close properly until Lilia stops by and stares in disapproval, at which point Yuri will finally get off his ass and do something about it.

He has it wedged into an awkward gap between the refrigerator and the wall — sideways, because it won’t fit otherwise. Even then, it’s still a little too wide. It blocks a sliver of the doorway, which means Yuri has to duck around it every time he crosses into or out of the kitchen. Yuri tolerates the obstacle because Potya’s litter box is tucked into the space meant for the trash.

The fact that the trash is visible from the living-room was never an issue before. Now, Yuri finds himself glancing over at it once every hour. Sometimes more, depending on how effective his distractions are.

His birth control is in there, lost beneath remnants of the takeout he got for dinner, and a clump of paper towels he used to clean up a furball from the back of the couch. ( _Why_ Potya couldn’t expel that onto the old wood flooring instead of Yuri’s halfway decent furniture is a question that will likely never be answered, though Yuri wouldn’t put it passed her to do it out of spite if his absence displeased her.) 

He could dig the packet of pills back out if he had to. He almost does at least four times that day — once after tossing it into the trash during his half-hearted attempt at unpacking his suitcases; once when his thigh bumped into the trash can on his way out of the kitchen with a cup of tea; once while he sat on the couch with his laptop, fingers frozen over the keys when an ad for a pregnancy test showed up on the website he was busy scrolling through; and once, most recently, when he returned from the basement after switching his laundry from one of the washing machines into a dryer.

Yuri’s stomach churns with indecision.

It was stupid of him not to take it. He didn’t even tell JJ, he just discarded the packet and went about his day — certainly not the most ethical thing to do, even if JJ did make the offer. They should really talk about it in depth. Something like this requires more than a spur of the moment tempting of fate. Yuri can’t even say he actually _made_ the decision to stop taking it. Not properly, anyway. He didn’t think at all when he packed up his belongings. He acted entirely on impulse, like he wasn’t in control of himself at the time.

Or so he tells himself. The fact of the matter is, he knew exactly what he was doing, which makes his behavior so much worse.

He should take an emergency contraceptive. JJ was absolutely insane to even _suggest_ they have a baby together. He must have infected Yuri with his insanity somehow; that’s the only explanation Yuri can come up with. JJ stuck his knot in him and turned Yuri’s brain to mush, and some of that careless spontaneity seeped in when Yuri was too fucked out to formulate a better argument.

They haven’t even gone public yet. JJ released his official statement during Yuri’s first flight home. Technically, that was two days ago, but it hasn’t felt that long when Yuri spent half of that time traveling. The internet has been rife with obsessive JJ Girl chatter ever since the first headline. When Yuri searches deeply enough, he can already find his own name tossed into the mix of speculation.

There are still too many people to tell. Not Yakov and Lilia, thankfully. They gave him a joint lecture on prudence during the ride to the airport, which Yuri barely paid attention to; something about not making a spectacle of himself until the news of JJ’s separation dies down. Fortunately, Mila has known for a while, otherwise he’d have to deal with her harassing him about it. She’s already been flooding his phone with texts since the morning he left Colorado Springs. “So are you dating or not?????” she wants to know.

Yuri hasn’t answered yet. He’d rather not give her the chance to meddle.

But the rest of his “family”... they need to know. Georgi and Nadya probably won’t think too much of it. If anything, they’ll be happy he’s finally making an effort to see someone. Viktor and Yuuri might react with some confusion; Viktor because he still likes to pretend he has no idea who JJ is even though they follow one another on social media, and Yuuri because he’s been around for enough of Yuri’s rants over the years that he probably didn’t think a relationship with JJ was a possibility. Yuri has to tell Deda, too, before the rumors increase in number and Deda overhears the neighbors gossiping.

And Otabek. That’s a thing that has to happen. _Soon_. Before JJ gets around to telling Isabella.

Yuri looks from his trash can to his laptop to the cell phone next to his thigh.

He picks up the phone, unlocks it, and opens his text conversation with Otabek.

They haven’t exchanged many messages since that Skype call before the Final, just a few during the competition. “You looked good,” Otabek would say, to which Yuri would respond with a simple, “Thanks.” Or Otabek would send a “Davai,” and Yuri would answer with a thumbs up.

Yuri hates the tension. He can’t stand the long silences. They’ve never behaved like this before, not once in the last seven years. Otabek should be sending him music. Yuri should be responding with pictures of Potya. They should be talking about Yuri’s programs. Otabek should be sharing stories from the club. Yuri should be nagging at him, “Stop smoking” or “Why aren’t you asleep?” or “Don’t make me text your mother.”

The distance kills him more than his concern for Otabek’s reaction. Whatever might have happened between them these last few years, Otabek is still his best friend. Yuri can’t lose that. They’ve been through too much together.

> **Yuri:**  
>  I’m sorry for what I said  
>  With JJ’s wife

He isn’t sorry at all. Not in the least. At most, he’s upset that it caused a rift. But an apology is what Otabek wants to hear, and Yuri will give him that if it means they can go back to the way things were.

For twenty minutes, he receives no response. Yuri passes the time catching up on social media. The last time he looked was an hour ago, so there isn’t much more to see. Guang Hong has posted a mid-morning picture of Luna, and Chris posted a video of his three-year-old son Elias chasing the cat.

Yuri’s stomach gives another nervous twist when his phone finally vibrates.

> **Otabek:**  
>  I’m sorry I didn’t tell you about Bella

It’s another apology issued out of obligation rather than sincerity. Otabek has always valued his privacy, and he’s grown increasingly more exasperated by the feud the longer Yuri and Isabella have kept it going. He wouldn’t want to talk about Isabella with Yuri no matter what he got up to with her. Yuri’s only consolation is that Otabek probably doesn’t tell Isabella anything about him either.

> **Yuri:**  
>  Can we Skype?

A minute later, the call tone sounds from his laptop. Yuri scrambles onto the floor in front of the couch, setting his laptop onto the coffee table and tilting the screen to an appropriate angle before accepting the call.

Otabek looks the same as he always does — expression neutral, dark eyes serious, sitting at his desk in a black hoodie and sweats. He wears his hair a little shaggy now, having abandoned the undercut about three years ago; it falls over his forehead, strands of it just beginning to creep beyond his earlobes. He’s probably due for a trim soon.

“Hey,” Yuri says, picking at a dent along the edge of the wooden coffee table.

“How was your flight back?” Otabek asks.

That’s so like him, jumping straight into the conversation without a greeting, as if they haven’t spent two weeks being cool and distant with one another. It would be a comfort under less nerve-wracking circumstances.

“Fine, I guess.”

“Did you have a good time in Colorado Springs?”

Yuri digs his thumbnail deeper into the wood. _I should really cut my nails_ , he thinks, seeking a distraction. They’re getting longer than he usually tolerates. Otabek can probably hear the scraping through the speakers.

What kind of question is that anyway? _Did he have a good time_. He took gold at the Final. Shouldn’t that be answer enough? It’s his third straight after the long drought that followed his first win in Barcelona. Then again, he often dismisses the gold he won in 2020. That wasn’t a fair victory, what with JJ unable to complete his free skate.

Unless Otabek’s referring to something else. The evidence has to be visible through the screen — beard burn, soothed for now with a little aloe; and hickeys along his neck, unmistakable for anything else. At least he has the logo on JJ’s hoodie hidden by his raised knees, but the hoodie itself is comically large on his thin frame and obviously not one of his own.

“Look, Beka…” Yuri begins after an uncomfortably long pause. “There’s something I need to tell you.”

He tears his gaze away from the coffee table to look at Otabek, whose expression hasn’t changed at all since the call connected. There’s no suspicion or anger in his eyes, no annoyed tension around the line of his mouth. He looks at Yuri the way he always has: stoic, but also—if Yuri searches his eyes enough—with restrained affection.

“Yura, I already know,” Otabek says.

Yuri’s brow furrows with confusion. “Know what?”

“You’re seeing JJ.”

Yuri tenses and his throat goes a little dry. Some of the color drains from his face. His eyes widen before he can school his expression, chest tightening, lungs suddenly incapable of holding any air.

“What? How did you…” Yuri struggles to get his thoughts in working order, shoving a nervous hand through his hair to push it out of his face. “Did he tell you?” He can’t imagine JJ would say anything. Not when he knows Otabek is a touchy subject. “Or did he tell…”

Yuri’s eyes flick toward the apartment door like he expects Isabella to show up at any moment, ready to chop him into bits with a meat cleaver. He would have hoped Otabek felt enough loyalty toward him to at least give him some sort of warning, but maybe he’s still angrier than his expression implies.

“No one told me anything,” Otabek says. “I just know you. I figured it out on my own, but I didn’t know for sure until you got back from the Cup of China.”

That was over a month ago. Otabek’s known all this time? And he didn’t say anything? He’s had JJ’s wife in his apartment for fuck knows how long, and he hasn’t brought any of this up with Yuri? Not even after Yuri said all those spiteful things?

“But… how?”

“I’ve suspected you’ve been seeing someone for a while now. You had sex at the Olympics. That much was obvious the morning after.”

Compulsively, Yuri starts scraping at the dent in the coffee table again.

“Then you were distant with me when I was in Saint Petersburg over the summer.”

“No I wasn’t.”

“You didn’t initiate sex,” Otabek reminds him. He doesn’t sound accusatory. Rather, he’s as blunt and unbiased as he usually is about the subject. “You turned me down when I tried.”

“Well, I…” Yuri trails off.

He hadn’t realized Otabek would treat it as something to take note of. He thought things were normal enough over the summer that his lack of interest in sex wouldn’t be cause for suspicion. They played video games together. They went out to eat or ordered takeout without any concern for their usual diets. They hit up some of the more popular clubs in town — just the two of them this time, without Mila there to join then. Otabek rented a motorbike and they drove around for hours, going everywhere and nowhere at once.

No, they didn’t have sex, but then it wasn’t like they’d had sex every night during their previous visits. Maybe once or twice, when they were drunk or horny and had no other outlet.

“You’d clearly been with someone again at the Cup of China,” Otabek continues. “I could see the evidence over Skype. I assumed it was the same person seeing as you’ve always been socially reluctant and unlikely to sleep around.”

“But—”

“It wasn’t hard to put the pieces together. Who was at the Olympics and the Cup of China?”

“Lots of people,” Yuri argues.

“But who have you had regular contact with? You haven’t expanded your social circle in years. You don’t like change. You’ve had the same habits for most of your life. You’re withdrawn in public. You decided who you felt comfortable with your first year at the senior level, and you’ve been indifferent to everyone else ever since.”

“I could’ve made an exception.”

Otabek’s already flat expression flattens even further into a look of incredulity. “You’ve always had a weird connection with JJ. I know you were doing it to spite Bella at first, but looking back… there’s been tension between you and JJ since the very beginning. I’m not convinced all of it was anger on your part.”

“That still doesn’t prove anything.”

“That’s just a normal rash on your face then?”

Yuri’s mouth drops into a sulky frown. He sets his chin on top of his knees and glares at Otabek.

Damn him. Damn him and his keen eyes and his sensible thought process.

“So your secret lover was someone in our group of friends who has facial hair. You’re not attracted to omegas, so it couldn’t be Chris. Emil wouldn’t cheat on Mickey.”

“JJ wouldn’t cheat on his wife,” Yuri grumbles.

“JJ and Bella were separated. I’ve known that for a while, too.”

“He told you?”

“Bella did,” Otabek explains. “After Melody was born. It was hard on her. She didn’t think anyone else would understand.”

Yuri huffs an irritated breath into his knees. Of course she’d talk to Otabek if she thought getting pregnant was a mistake. Otabek doesn’t want kids. Out of everyone, he’d be the most likely to commiserate with her. She probably spilled her guts to him. Otabek might not share much of himself, but he’s a good listener, and he gives decent advice.

“I was already convinced it was JJ,” Otabek continues, “but when Bella told you about the divorce, that proved it. She didn’t notice because she doesn’t know you like I do. You got quiet and you looked nervous right after she said it.”

“But you never looked suspicious,” Yuri argues.

“And that surprises you?”

No, it doesn’t. Otabek is notoriously difficult to read, especially when he’s making an effort to shield his thoughts and control his scent. Yuri has always felt that he could read Otabek better than anyone else, given how close they’ve become. Apparently, he was wrong to assume.

That hurts. Just a little. He shouldn’t be upset because Otabek doesn’t mean anything personal by it. He trusts Yuri with more of himself than he does most other people. He’s told Yuri things he hasn’t even shared with the friends he’s known longer. His struggles. His fears. The unease he felt as he considered his future. The pressure he’s always been under as a national hero. And Yuri has reciprocated; their troubles and concerns have often been the same.

Yuri hates being at odds with him. He hates when something disturbs the harmony they’ve developed. Otabek was the first person who really wanted to be his friend. It wasn’t out of habit or convenience. Otabek was truly interested. He admired Yuri. He strove to be Yuri’s equal — and he was, after a time. They did a lot of growing on the senior circuit together.

“Your exhibition program,” Otabek says, “and the picture you posted from the banquet… I didn’t need either of those to know I was right.”

“Thanks for letting him know I’ve been so obvious about it,” Yuri gripes.

“You could’ve been more subtle. Bella noticed the picture. She wanted to confront JJ about it, but I convinced her not to. I told her you were probably doing it to piss her off and she shouldn’t give you the satisfaction.”

Yuri’s face creases with distaste. “Well, I’m not sorry.”

A heavy sigh gusts through the speakers, the only other sound Otabek’s made throughout this entire conversation. “If that’s why you’ve been seeing JJ—”

“You still think I’m trying to get back at her?”

“You obviously didn’t know they were done until Bella said something,” Otabek counters. Even now, there’s no hint of accusation in his tone. His voice gentles somewhat, like he’s trying to be reassuring while continuing to call Yuri out on his bullshit at the same time.

“I wasn’t _trying_ to break them up. Maybe I was being a little spiteful the first time and I felt smug about it after the fact, but that’s not the only reason I fucked him.”

“So this is romantic then.”

Yuri’s throat closes again. He swallows to loosens it, but he’s only partially successful. “I…”

There’s something consoling about Otabek’s gaze even as his mouth remains pressed into a straight line. “I’m not going to judge you for it if you say yes.”

He _can’t_ say “yes.” Even if it’s true. Even if he’s slowly begun to accept it. The whole relationship is a ridiculous notion to begin with. Anyone who might have thought he and JJ were suited for one another had to be completely mad. For most of the last seven years, there was nothing between them that could be mistaken for romance. Even when JJ flirted with him. Even when Yuri switched tactics and flirted back. At most, there was a sense of rivalry coupled with reluctant acceptance — JJ, the good natured tease; and Yuri, the quick tempered opposition.

But he can’t say “no” either. That would be a lie. Yuri might omit certain things in conversation, but he doesn’t usually make a habit of lying to Otabek outright. He and JJ have passed into adulthood. They’ve matured in their own ways, no longer the foolish teenagers they once were. Yuri can’t deny the attraction, physical or emotional. He wants everything JJ has to offer. The security. The loyalty. The reverence with which JJ treats him when they’re alone and free from expectations, not bound to keep up appearances. The comfort. The calm that settles over them when they’re sated, quiet in the aftermath.

And that offer, which creeps into the back of Yuri’s mind when he has nothing else to occupy his attention.

Yuri chooses not to answer. Instead, he asks, “Why haven’t you said anything?”

“I was waiting for you to tell me on your own,” Otabek says.

“Well, I have now. I’m seeing JJ. We’ve fucked and we’re going to keep fucking, and I might like him more than I wanted to.”

“Okay. Just… don’t do anything rash. Make sure JJ tells Bella before you go public.”

A heavy sigh rustles the hair in front of Yuri’s face. He lifts a hand to push it back again, scratching at his scalp as he does so.

His nerves ease by a fraction. His posture loosens. He changes positions, sitting cross-legged, his former defensiveness bleeding away. Potya comes over to drape herself over one thigh, purring when his hand sinks into her fur.

“JJ wouldn’t do anything until he’s talked to her,” Yuri says.

“No, but you might.”

There’s no judgement in Otabek’s voice. His tone is more light than exasperated, like he’s vaguely amused even if he knows he shouldn’t be.

“Nice hoodie,” he adds, lips twitching into the slightest smirk.

Yuri rolls his eyes. “You’re an asshole.”

“Did you steal that or did he give it to you?”

JJ didn’t say anything about it, but Yuri can’t have stolen it since JJ was aware the entire time. If anything, it was an unspoken agreement between them. JJ likes to see him in it, and Yuri finds comfort in wearing it. It’s warm and it smells like JJ, and Yuri has always been partial to loser clothing.

“Shut the fuck up,” Yuri grumbles.

He can’t be sure because it’s so quiet, but he thinks Otabek might chuckle in response.

Any remaining tension recedes after that. They put all talk of JJ and Isabella on hold; Yuri doesn’t mention JJ’s crazy idea, and Isabella doesn’t interrupt again. Some semblance of normalcy returns to their interactions. They discuss the Final. Yuri bemoans having to travel again so soon for Nationals. He talks about reuniting with Pavel, Lidiya, and Karina, and he complains about Viktor’s annoying behavior. He lifts Potya up so Otabek can see her, cursing Otabek when he says, “She’s getting fat.”

Otabek sends a new mix and shares amusing stories about his friends in Almaty. He gives Yuri updates about his family, passing along well wishes and congratulations from his parents and older sisters. Then he grumbles through a complaint about his mother, who seems to have renewed her efforts to shame him away from smoking. Yuri has no sympathy for him and joins the harassment. “Listen to her. That shit’s not good for you. You should know better, you dumb fuck. I’ll keep nagging you about it until you quit. I got Deda to stop and he’s a stubborn old man. I can get you to stop too.”

They talk for over an hour — almost two — the way they have since they first became friends. Nothing about it seems strained or awkward. Yuri laughs openly. A little more warmth creeps into Otabek’s expression. It’s as if nothing has changed. Those two weeks of near silence might never have occurred. Yuri can almost believe they’ve finally learned how to move on.

There’s no more longing on his part. There’s no hopelessness or heart-wrenching disappointment, and when they finally disconnect, none of the loneliness settles in.

Yuri sighs and relishes the relief that washes over him. Things will be different now, he’s sure, but none of the changes will disrupt their good rapport. They can still be friends — the way they always should have been, before sex and infatuation turned their relationship into a complicated mess.

Guiltily, Yuri’s gaze flicks back toward the trash can.

 _Don’t do anything rash_ , Otabek said.

Though he meant something completely different, the sentiment would probably be more insistent if he knew what Yuri was chancing.

He should dig his birth control out, or pick up a new pack. He should get that emergency contraceptive. Nationals are next week, the European Championships are next month, and Worlds are at the end of March. This isn’t a good time to get pregnant, not if he wants to finish the rest of the season. He should wait. He should see his doctor and figure out what his best option would be.

He should talk to JJ.

But Yuri doesn’t do any of those things. He shuts his computer and retrieves his laundry from the basement. When he returns, he carries Potya into the bedroom, where he curls up with her and sends a demanding text to JJ.

> **Yuri:**  
>  I want pics of Melody

JJ indulges him, and the new photos join the hundreds Yuri already has of the other children.

* * *

[A picture of Yuri at the hospital, sitting in an armchair with one arm curled around Lidiya, a girl of one-and-a-half with light brown hair and bright blues eyes, who sits half in his lap. In his other arm rests Karina, cradled with an ease that would make one assume Yuri never once felt uncomfortable holding a baby. Pavel climbs along the back of the chair, looping his arms around Yuri’s neck from behind and grinning from ear to ear.]

**57,678 likes**

**yuri_plisetsky** My good luck charms #babypopo1 #babypopo2 #babyviktuuri #teamrussia

 **nadya_polunina** Good luck at nationals!!!!  
**yuri_plisetsky** @nadya_polunina I’m going to wipe the floor with everyone else  
**mila-babicheva** Mama Yura strikes again  
**yuri_plisetsky** @mila-babicheva I’m going to leave snarky comments on all your posts after you give birth  
**mila-babicheva** @yuri_plisetsky You’ll be too busy stealing my baby  
**yuri_plisetsky** @mila-babicheva She’s going to like me better  
**mila-babicheva** @yuri_plisetsky Only because I’m the one who’ll have to discipline her  
**yuri_plisetsky** @mila-babicheva If you think I spoil the others you’re wrong  
**phichit+chu** Good luck Yura!!!!  
**yuri_plisetsky** @phichit+chu :P  
**Jjleroy!15** You’re so doting  
**mila-babicheva** @Jjleroy!15 You have no idea  
**yuri_plisetsky** @Jjleroy!15 @mila-babicheva It helps that they don’t piss me off  
**Jjleroy!15** @mila-babicheva @yuri_plisetsky You’re gonna be the best mom someday  
**yuri_plisetsky** @mila-babicheva @Jjleroy!15 Shut the fuck up  
**+guanghongji+** You’re gonna kick so much ass!!!  
**yuri_plisetsky** @+guanghongji+ Naturally  
**yuri_plisetsky** @+guanghongji+ PS I demand more pics of Luna

DECEMBER 18

* * *

Yuri bleeds during Nationals.

Not a lot. Not nearly as much as he does during a regular period. It’s little more than spotting, a few stains in his underwear over the span of two or three days, before it stops altogether. The cramps that accompany it are the mildest he’s ever felt, and aside from a headache the day between his short program and free skate, no other symptoms occur. No bloating. No fatigue. No increased moodiness. His cravings don’t vacillate between sweet and salty the way they usually do. Pimples dot his chin, but Yuri blames those on not washing the makeup from his face before JJ’s stubble scraped at his skin.

He Googles the issue to make absolutely sure it’s nothing of concern, only to find the internet teeming with information about implantation bleeding and miscarriages, and the much more logical possibility that he’s simply experiencing some irregularity with his cycle after stopping his birth control.

But of course Yuri’s brain decides to zero in on the implantation bleeding, because a small piece of him — a piece he tries very hard to ignore — was hoping it would be this easy.

He could be pregnant. _Right now_. Before he’s thought it through. Before he’s had the chance to stress out and agonize over it and convince himself it really is a _terrible_ idea. He could have just made the most reckless decision of his entire life on nothing more than a whim, because JJ was sweet and earnest and made Yuri feel stupid things he shouldn’t be feeling.

When he returns to Saint Petersburg with another gold medal to add to his ever expanding collection, Yuri buys a cheap box of pregnancy tests and paces around his apartment for a few minutes while he waits for the results.

> _Negative_.

He should be relieved, not disappointed, but his heart sinks a little and he takes another test the next morning just to see if the results might be different when he uses the test as directed, when his urine is more concentrated.

> _Negative_.

The outcome is far from reassuring.

It might still be too early to know for sure. What if he takes another test a week from now and the results are different? What would he do?

Stupid question. Obviously he’d keep the baby. He’s wanted one long enough that he wouldn’t even consider terminating the pregnancy, whether or not he actually meant for this to happen. He would do what was necessary: confess to JJ and hope this doesn’t throw a wrench into things. JJ offered, and he seemed serious about it, so he shouldn’t be too upset about Yuri’s actions. Maybe. It’s hard to say for certain when Yuri has no idea what goes on in JJ’s head. They should have discussed this more before leaving Colorado Springs. Yuri should have told him about the birth control as soon as he threw it away.

He takes three mores tests a few days later.

> _Negative._
> 
> _Negative._
> 
> _Negative._

Still, Yuri doesn’t take much comfort from them, especially when the thread of disappointment grows.

If nothing else, the experience pushes him forward. He can’t keep JJ a secret any longer. If their relationship is going to be as serious as it seems, his friends and family will have to know. He’s kept it to himself too long already. Mila won’t be able to contain herself now that she’s conferred with Sophie, Mickey, and Emil about what they witnessed; she’ll blab to someone if she hasn’t already. Or the rumors with keep circulating online, until they finally rise up beneath the mourning for “JJBella, every JJ Girl’s relationship goals” and spread like wildfire.

On Saturday, New Year’s Eve, Yuri joins the rest of his makeshift family at Viktor and Yuuri’s apartment for their weekly “family dinner.” The holiday turns out to be an even more joyous occasion than usual, because Karina has finally been released from the hospital.

She’s passed from person to person — Yakov, the smitten grandfather; Lilia, the stern but nurturing grandmother; Viktor and Yuuri, the watchful mother and the gentle father; Georgie and Nadya, the experienced aunt and uncle; Pavel and Lidiya, the young cousins, completely enamored with the new baby; Kenjirou Minami, the chipper family friend; and Vasiliy Orlov, the obnoxious trainee burrowing his way into the festivities like he can gain more significance if he hangs around his famous coaches enough.

And of course there’s Yuri, the baby hungry omega he never wanted to be.

His scent gives him away. Every time he has Karina in his arms, at least one of his companions regards him with a knowing smile.

Yuri watches Georgi coo at the baby for a while, then takes a deep breath and announces, without preamble, “I’m seeing someone.”

He’s met with varied looks of surprise and excitement. Yakov and Lilia hardly react given that they’ve already been informed; Yakov’s brow twitches, but Lilia does nothing more than casually sip at her wine. Georgi stares at Yuri in shock, while Nadya’s face breaks out into a sunny smile. Viktor’s eyes brighten like he can barely contain his excitement, and Yuuri’s expression settles into something that looks like confusion mixed with repressed glee. Kenjirou and Vasiliy simply look curious; perhaps there’s some amusement on Vasiliy’s part, but Yuri ignores it.

“Who?” Nadya asks, voice high with enthusiasm. “Do we know them? I assume they’re another skater…”

Yuri rolls his eyes. He’s immediately reminded of Otabek’s observations and suddenly hates that he’s so predictable.

At least he can shock them with JJ. Not many people would have seen _that_ coming.

“I don’t know if you’ve met,” he says. “But… yeah. I’m seeing JJ.”

Vasiliy snorts, which Yuri responds to with a murderous glare. Viktor’s expression falls, perplexed by the news, and a meager furrow appears between Yuuri’s eyebrows. They must have been expecting someone else. Otabek, most likely.

Yuri can’t say he’s sorry to disappoint them.

“ _Oh_!” Nadya gasps. Apparently she’s the only one capable of stringing two words together. “The really famous one! We talked for a little while at Mila and Sara’s wedding. He’s very charming.” Her hazel eyes spark perceptively. “Handsome, too. I love his music. He has an amazing voice.”

Pavel glances up from the floor, feet kicking back and forth in the air as he plays silly games on his iPad. “Are you getting married?”

Yuri blanches, stomach turning, appalled by the very thought. “Pashenka, no. It’s not that serious.”

“Mila got married,” Pavel says, like Mila’s fate makes marriage the most obvious conclusion to any relationship.

“Mila and Sara have been together for a long time.”

Viktor finally gets his wits about him and pipes up, “JJ who?”

Yakov and Lilia meet Viktor’s clueless expression with exasperation and disbelief. Lilia actually lifts a hand to rub at her temples. Yakov restricts himself to a grumble. “Vitya, you have to be joking.”

Yuri sneers, “You know who he is, dumbass,” at the same time Yuuri says, “Jean-Jacques Leroy,” as if Viktor needs to hear the name in full, the way it’s always been announced over the loudspeakers in every arena.

“Leroy?” Viktor says. Yuri can almost see the gears turning in his otherwise empty head. Eventually, Viktor seems to come to his senses. “Oh. _Oh_. Really?” He pours all of his confusion into his next question. “ _Why_?”

Yuri takes that to means Viktor disapproves of his choice, which grates on Yuri’s nerves. With barely restrained hostility, he grounds out, “He’s one of the few people on this Earth who are worthy of me.”

“How is he worthy of you?”

“He has an impressive competitive record and an established career outside of competition.”

“He’s not so impressive these days, is he?” Vasiliy says.

Kenjirou winces beside him. He shifts away when Yuri turns another dark glare onto Vasiliy, like he doesn’t want to be associated with his impudent training mate. Under his breath, he hisses a quiet “Idiot” in Japanese.

Yuri seethes, fists curling in his lap. He’d _love_ to jump across the coffee table and throttle the mouthy brat, but he holds himself back. If this self-aggrandizing little prick thinks he can get Yuri to lose control, he’s got another thing coming. Yuri didn’t spend seven years dealing with JJ’s arrogant shit without learning a thing or two about maintaining his composure.

Some of it, anyway.

“Sorry, _who_ has more World medals than you?” Yuri asks, voice thick with contempt. “Not to mention his Olympic record.”

“I have Olympic gold, too,” Vasiliy argues.

“Which you won through the team event, mostly because me, Mila, and our pairs team dominated the _shit_ out of it,” Yuri reminds him. “JJ has silver from the team event in Sochi and two gold medals from Pyeongchang. I think he’s done pretty well for himself.”

“This is the guy you’ve always thrown tantrums about. Now you’re suddenly defending his honor?”

“Against a pretentious jackass like you? Fuck yeah.”

“Yura, those are bad words,” Pavel sing-songs.

By the toy box in the corner of the room, Lidiya remains completely oblivious to the tension, busily stacking blocks into a tower.

Vasiliy snorts again. “I can’t be any more pretentious than a guy who calls himself King.”

Gently, Yuuri cuts in, “He’s let up on that these days.”

“You’re dating someone for their career?” Viktors asks, like he missed the entire confrontation that just took place before his very eyes.

“Why else would I bother?” Yuri counters.

He’s not about to wax poetic for them. He won’t agree with Nadya that JJ is handsome, even if that’s exactly what he thinks. He won’t tell _anyone_ about the way he feels when he and JJ are alone, not even Otabek, because it’s embarrassing and it isn’t anyone’s business anyway. He won’t admit to them how sweet JJ can be, or how good he is in bed. No one needs to know what Yuri really likes about him. They’re lucky he’s telling them about the relationship at all.

Shock wrinkles Viktor’s face, astounded by Yuri's apparent indifference. “Because you like him? Because you like the way you feel when you’re with him?”

“Vitya…” Yuuri gives Viktor’s ankle a gentle kick, then stares meaningfully when Viktor glances at him.

Something passes between them, and Viktor says, “Oh.” He turns back to Yuri, eyebrows raised. “Well, that’s… unexpected.”

“I think it’s _wonderful_ ,” Nadya beams.

Georgi releases a dreamy sigh. “Oh, to be young and in love!”

“Don’t you _want_ to get married?” Pavel asks.

Lilia presses the tips of her fingers to her temple again. Under her breath, she whispers something that sounds a lot like “Holy Mother, give me strength.” Yakov pats her shoulder, but he looks close to ripping the rest of his thinning hair out, so it probably doesn’t do much to soothe her.

Yuri rolls his eyes and stands, grabbing his glass of water from the coffee table. “Do you have anything other than wine?”

Halfway to the kitchen, he hears Viktor call out, “Wait, so then who else is worthy of you?”

Yuri turns to give him a very pointed stare. In a low, deliberate voice, he says, “No one I can have.”

Then he shifts his gaze to Yuuri just long enough for Viktor to notice, before turning away.

Viktor gasps, “Not my Yuuri!”

“Vitya, he’s joking,” Yuuri consoles him.

“No, I’m not!” Yuri shouts from the kitchen.

He is, but Viktor doesn’t need to know that.

* * *

[A picture of Melody sitting in JJ’s lap. She’s wearing a glittery gold top-hat to match her black and gold dress. She crushes a gold party horn in one of her hands, holding it near her mouth like she’s trying to chew on it. JJ also seems to be dressed for a party, in a black dress shirt and slacks, with his hair styled neatly. They both sport matching grins.]

**91,489 likes**

**Jjleroy!15** Happy New Year! I get to be with this little party animal all night! #princessmelody #melmel #mymelody #babygirl #family #party #newyears2023 #cute #love #jjstyle

 **yuri_plisetsky** !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!  
**mila-babicheva** @yuri_plisetsky Uh oh  
**yuri_plisetsky** @mila-babicheva SHUT UP HAG I DON’T WANT TO HEAR IT  
**mila-babicheva** @yuri_plisetsky You can’t hear anything when I’m typing  
**Jjleroy!15** @yuri_plisetsky @mila-babicheva Let him gush. It’s adorable  
**yuri_plisetsky** @Jjleroy!15 @mila-babicheva I AM NOT ADORABLE  
**katsuki-y** She’s beautiful!!  
**Jjleroy!15** @katsuki-y Thank you! I certainly like to think so!  
**phichit+chu** WOW! I don’t think I’ve seen a pic since she was born! She’s so big already!  
**Jjleroy!15** @phichit+chu It kills me. I want her to stay little forever  
**phichit+chu** @Jjleroy!15 The world is too cruel a place for one so sweet  
**+guanghongji+** Playtime with Luna this summer?  
**Jjleroy!15** @+guanghongji+ You know it!  
**v-nikiforov** I think our kitten might be near tears  
**yuri_plisetsky** @v-nikiforov SHUT UP DICKWEED I AM NOT  
**v-nikiforov** @yuri_plisetsky Babies! Babies everywhere!  
**yuri_plisetsky** @v-nikiforov I am going to kill you

DECEMBER 31

* * *

Telling Deda about JJ is easier.

Telling Deda about _anything_ is easier. Deda doesn’t try to speak over him or interject. He lets Yuri talk until Yuri runs out of words. Or air. Whichever happens first. Yuri can call him at any time of day, and Deda will answer, and listen, and speak to Yuri in the, calm, deep, gravelly voice that always puts him at ease. He can tell Deda whatever’s on his mind without feeling stifled or judged, because Deda loves and accepts him unconditionally. During his fits of rage or excited ramblings, or the rare bouts of frustrated tears, Deda coaxes him through it all with frank comments and quiet comfort.

Yuri calls him on the 4th of January. They spoke on New Year’s day, but Yuri couldn’t bring himself to say what he needed to. Now, staring at two more negative pregnancy tests with a defeated weight on his chest, he knows it’s time to come clean.

Deda answers after the second ring. “Yurochka.”

“Hi, Deda,” Yuri says.

“Are you alright?”

His concern is palpable. They talk once a week — every Sunday like clockwork — unless a special occasion or an emergency necessitates another call. Seeing as it’s Wednesday now, and a date that holds no special significance for either of them, Deda must assume something has gone wrong.

“Yeah, everything’s fine,” Yuri assures him. “I just wanted to talk to you. There’s something I need to tell you.”

“I’m listening.”

He’s so composed. Deda’s clipped comments might sound brusque to anyone who doesn’t know him well, but Yuri can always hear the warmth beneath them.

Even so, his nerves start to fray. Between the pregnancy tests and the talk with his friends — and the trash can, which Yuri still glances toward multiple times a day, even though he’s already disposed of the bag that contained his birth control — his nerves are worn down enough as it is. He isn’t worried about Deda’s reaction so much as he’s conflicted about his own intentions. Yuri has no idea what he’s doing. He has no clue what he wants, except that he wants JJ, and he wants a baby, but the practical voice in the back of his head won’t let him put those two things together.

Yuri plucks one of the negative tests off the coffee table. He bought a more expensive brand, better than the little strips of paper with their single pink lines, but the results were the same. Yuri stares at the plastic stick and the glaring “Not Pregnant” on the screen, then sighs heavily and taps it against his lower thigh.

Everything he meant to say to start the conversation slips away from him. Instead, he asks, “Hypothetically, if I said I wanted to have a baby… what would you say?”

A beat of silence follows. Yuri hears a quiet creak on the other end of the line, like Deda’s shifting in his chair.

“Are you pregnant?” he finally responds, voice level — controlled.

“No,” Yuri says. The speed of his restless tapping increases. “No, I don’t think so. Every test I’ve taken says I’m not.”

“But you’re trying?”

Yuri sighs again at the time time a soft noise vibrates up the back of his throat, so it sounds more like a helpless groan. “I don’t know. Maybe? I was so fucking stupid and I stopped taking my birth control, and now I’m losing my shit because I have no idea what I’m doing.”

“Is this something you’ve considered before?” Deda asks.

“I… yeah. For a while now.”

“You never told me.”

“I know,” Yuri says with a guilty grimace. “I didn’t know how to talk about it. I haven’t really told _anyone_. Some of my friends have figured it out, but… I don’t know, Deda. What the fuck was I supposed to say?”

Deda’s answer is as simple and steady as he is. “All you have to do is tell me. It doesn’t have to be a grand announcement. There’s no shame in wanting to have a baby.”

“You’re not disappointed?”

“Why would I be disappointed about something like this?”

Yuri shrugs even though Deda can’t see it. He heaves another sigh, leaning back into the couch cushions and tilting his head until he can stare up at the ceiling. He draws his knees up to his chest, fingers squeezing around the negative test. Potya slinks over to sniff and lick at his toes. Yuri nudges her with the biggest one until she meows discontentedly and jumps up onto the couch with him, nuzzling against his hip.

“Do you think I’m too young?” he asks.

Twenty-two is definitely too young. That’s what he imagines most people would say. _Especially_ since he’s unmarried, and he’s only just entered into something that resembles a serious relationship — one he can’t even bring himself to acknowledge beyond “I’m seeing someone.” He’s doing more than “ _seeing_ ,” isn’t he? Someone doesn’t purposefully risk a pregnancy with someone they’re just “ _seeing_.”

“Yurochka,” Deda says, voice dipping low, at once serious and reassuring. “Your mama had a normal enough life and he had you when he was seventeen. You were out of the house by the time you were ten and famous when you were fifteen. You’ll be twenty-three soon. That’s a fine age for you to have a baby. I’m not worried about you being young. I’m worried about you being on your own.”

“What if I don’t do it on my own?”

Yuri chews some of the chapped skin from his bottom lip while he waits for Deda to respond. An expectant silence falls over the line, like Deda’s waiting for him to continue. Yuri stays quiet, focusing on a small, unidentifiable stain on the ceiling.

“Is this something you’ve talked about with Otabek?” Deda finally asks.

“No,” Yuri says. “I mean, _yes_ , sort of. But no, he doesn’t want kids. We’re not…” He struggles to come up with some way to explain the situation without horrifying Deda with any details. “We sort of cooled off a while ago.”

“You’ve been seeing someone else then.”

“I guess, yeah. It’s recent, but… yeah, we’ve seen each other off and on since the Olympics.”

A note of disbelief lurks beneath Deda’s otherwise calm tone. “And you’re considering them as a father?”

Yuri squirms in place, digging his toes into the couch cushion. “I don’t know. Maybe.” He shifts again and disturbs Potya, who whines at him and readjusts herself beside his hip. “He knows I want a baby. He offered a few weeks ago. I told him he was fucking insane, but… I haven’t completely scrapped the idea.”

His fingers tighten around the negative test. Yuri forces himself to drop it, lifting his hand to push a few stubborn locks of loose hair out of his face.

“Is he good to you?” Deda asks.

Memories surface, completely against Yuri’s will — JJ’s hand along his back; JJ’s foot against his own; JJ’s fingers stroking his wrist; the light that always seems to shine in JJ's eyes when they see one another; the look on JJ’s face when they talk about Melody; the soft smile JJ wears when they’re alone; the tender kisses Yuri wants to hate but can’t, because they make the stupid butterflies rise from his stomach into his chest, where his heart flutters with them.

Yuri fiddles with the wedding ring he still wears around his neck like a trophy. He bought a different chain for it, one without a charm already attached — silver, because it was cheaper and it looks alright with the platinum. The cost was probably only a fraction of what JJ’s ring is worth, but Yuri enjoys the way he feels when he wears it. Sometimes he’s smug. Sometimes he’s soft and thoughtful.

Maybe it’s wrong of him to wear it. Isabella will be furious if she ever notices, but at least for now, Yuri doesn’t care.

“Yeah,” he says. “I guess so.”

Deda hums lowly, but it’s difficult to say if he’s being complentative or if he’s pleased by the answer. “Do I know him?”

“Probably. He’s another skater.”

“From Russia?”

Yuri laughs lightly. Of course that would be Deda’s preference. “Sorry to disappoint you, but no. He’s from Canada.”

Deda grows quiet again as he mulls over the information. “Who? Not the one you’ve always complained about.”

“Uhh… actually, yeah.”

“Isn’t he married?” A mild hint of disapproval enters Deda’s voice.

“Not anymore,” Yuri says, sliding JJ’s ring back and forth along the chain.

Sternly, Deda says, “ _Yurochka_.”

“It wasn’t me, Deda! They were done when we—”

If it were anyone else, Yuri would have been happy to shock them with a blunt “when we fucked.” But this is Deda, and Deda _certainly_ wouldn’t want to hear that, even if he has to be aware of the things Yuri got up to with Otabek. 

Yuri respects him enough that he lets the sentence hang there, before choosing to continue with, “They broke up last year. They’re getting a divorce. He’s already made a public statement.”

Deda hums again. There’s another creak as he shifts positions. Yuri expects him to pose some other objection, either to lament JJ’s nationality or to caution Yuri against any hasty decision.

He doesn’t. All Deda says is, “I’ll want to meet him.”

It’s that simple. It always is with Deda. He might be a stubborn old man, but he’s gentle and loving when it counts.

Yuri’s mouth quirks into a smile. “Okay.”

And that’s that.

* * *

[A picture of Yuri lying on the couch in Viktor and Yuuri’s apartment. He has Karina against his chest, which conveniently shields the logo on JJ’s hoodie from view. They both appear to be napping.]

**58,213 likes**

**v-nikiforov** Someone help me steal my baby back. A feisty kitten keeps snatching her away. #babyviktuuri #babythief #icekitten #teamrussia

 **christophe-gc** You’ll have to lock him out of the apartment  
**v-nikiforov** @christophe-gc We made the mistake of giving him a key  
**christophe-gc** @v-nikiforov Guess it’s time to change the locks  
**katsuki-y** @christophe-gc @v-nikiforov But they look so sweet  
**mila-babicheva** At least you know how to get him to retract his claws  
**v-nikiforov** @mila-babicheva This is true  
**phichit+chu** I’m constantly amazed that Yuri can be so soft  
**v-nikiforov** @phichit+chu The sweet kitten comes out more and more often these days  
**phichit+chu** @v-nikiforov He’s had everyone fooled all these years  
**yuri_plisetsky** @phichit+chu @v-nikiforov Maybe I just don’t like any of you  
**phichit+chu** @yuri_plisetsky @v-nikiforov Me-yow  
**yuri_plisetsky** Stop posting pictures of me when I’m sleeping  
**v-nikiforov** @yuri_plisetsky Stop falling asleep at my apartment  
**Jjleroy!15** This is the cutest thing I’ve ever seen  
**yuri_plisetsky** @Jjleroy!15 Except Melody?  
**Jjleroy!15** @yuri_plisetsky That goes without saying  
**v-nikiforov** @Jjleroy!15 @yuri_plisetsky You won’t think it’s so cute when he won’t give your baby back

JANUARY 5

* * *

Yuri starts bleeding again on the 6th of January.

He knows it’s a normal period this time, because the cramps keep him away from practice for two days, which he spends curled up in bed or on the couch with Potya and a hot water bottle, downing pain reliever every six hours. He stuffs chocolate into his face on the second day and craves salty potato chips on the fourth one. His jeans are uncomfortable when he's bloated, so he spends the entire week cycling through leggings and sweatpants. He ends up snapping at everyone because he’s tired and in pain and he’s even less inclined to deal with their stupidity than usual. Yakov quickly becomes fed up with him, incensed by Yuri’s wavering mood, but Lilia takes pity on him in that grim way of hers, ushering Yuri over to her lavish apartment so she can fill him up with a healthy dinner and ginger tea sweetened with honey.

Yuri sends irritable texts to Mila and Guang Hong, who console him even if neither of them have had to deal with a normal period in months. (“It’ll end soon boo. Plus I think I win on both pain and blood loss,” Guang Hong says, then sends Yuri a new picture of Luna.) Yuri responds to Viktor’s sympathetic messages with a continuous stream of “leave me alone dumbass i’m busy dying.” He grumbles to Otabek over Skype, who offers advice he probably reads online, because Otabek doesn’t know jack shit about periods even though he has three omega sisters.

Mostly, Yuri complains to JJ, who neglects the teasing comments Yuri expected and sends the right about of pity and comfort, along with videos of Melody and a few pictures of his cousin’s newborn daughter.

There can be no doubt now. He isn’t pregnant. The seven tests he took should have been enough to convince him, but it’s the heavy period that proves it. Out of some bleak sense of regret, Yuri keeps the negative tests in a plastic bag instead of throwing them away. He shoves them into the back of his nightstand drawer, where they taunt him daily, feeding into his disappointment every time his hand brushes against the bag.

It isn’t rational. He should be relieved, and a part of him is — that logical voice in his head screaming at him to be reasonable. But that voice loses strength every day, dimming more as time passes, until he’s grasping for the last echoes of it, forcing himself to listen, because he shouldn’t — he _can’t_ — let himself give in.

If he wants to have a baby now, a sperm donor would be the better choice. He considers it constantly, especially when he wakes in the early morning hours and can’t get back to sleep. Wouldn’t it be the most advantageous way to go about things? He wouldn’t have to worry about dating or maintaining a relationship. He could have a baby whenever he wants, and no one else would have any say over it.

But now, the more he thinks of some anonymous beta man or alpha with a number attached to their profile instead of a name, the more Yuri falters. Maybe that would work for him if he gave it a chance. His mother made do without his father around. Yuri wouldn’t ever claim to have led a privileged life, not until he was successful enough for sponsorships and lucrative endorsements, but Mama and Deda did they best they could. He was happy with them until Mama was gone. After that, once the grief passed, Deda more than made up for it.

Yuri could have a baby by himself, and that baby would have a comfortable life full of love and adventure. There are so many people who care for him now, who he can turn to for support when he needs it. Deda is aging and not always in the best of health, but he would help Yuri without question, and treat a great-grandchild with the same love and care with which he’s always treated Yuri.

And the rest…

Yakov has been like a father to him even when their tempers clash. Lilia has stuck by him all these years, even after Yuri moved into his own place; she’s the closest thing he’s had to a mother since Mama died. Viktor and Yuuri, both annoyingly affectionate, have given Yuri support in their own ways, once all that awkward tension leading up to the Barcelona Grand Prix Final eventually passed. Georgi and Nadya have done their fair share, too. Even Mila, despite all her meddling and teasing, has earned a place in Yuri’s heart.

Yet none of it compares to the unbridled joy and love on JJ's face every time he talked about Melody.

Yuri wants that for a baby. He wants whoever comes into his life, now or in the future, to feel that way about his child. He didn’t have that from his father, and though a hurt, mistrustful place in Yuri’s heart remains cautious because of it, he has no doubt that, no matter what happens with their relationship, JJ would always look at their baby that way.

 _This is so fucking stupid_ , Yuri reminds himself. _This is insane_.

The admonishment loses its effect after a while — when he’s lying in bed at night, staring at the pictures on his phone.

On the 13th, once the bleeding has stopped and Yuri feels a little more like himself, Pavel and Lidiya come to stay with him for the night.

They watch movies and eat junk food. They play with Potya. They roll around on the floor, all three of them at once, and wage a lengthy tickle fight. Yuri’s apartment fills with noise that isn’t music or the sound of his own voice. He laughs and jumps around the way he did when he was young, pulling Pavel and Lidiya into silly dances them leave them both shrieking with glee.

JJ texts him later, after they’ve tired themselves out and settled down for another movie.

> **JJ:**  
>  Sweetpea
> 
> **Yuri:**  
>  Fuck face
> 
> **JJ:**  
>  I mean  
>  Yeah  
>  You can fuck my face if you want to
> 
> **Yuri:**  
>  Don’t be gross  
>  There are children present
> 
> **JJ:**  
>  Oh right  
>  You’ve got Pavel and Lidiya?  
>  Mel’s with me  
>  Do you want to Skype or FaceTime?

Until the day he dies, Yuri will insist that his swift reaction is due to his excitement over the prospect of seeing Melody, _not_ because he has any great desire to see JJ face to face.

They’ve texted almost constantly since parting, during the hours between JJ waking and Yuri going to sleep. JJ sends him multiple pictures per day without Yuri having to make additional demands. On occasion, Yuri will respond with photos of Potya or the day-to-day happenings in his life — usually the children, or training sessions at the rink, along with sappy pictures of Viktor and Yuuri, which Yuri gags over and complains about for JJ’s amusement. They still talk about the same things they’ve always talked about, like practice, or Russian Nationals, or JJ’s family and their friends, only now their conversations are littered with snarky flirting and suggestive comments, and frequent “I miss you”s from JJ.

But they haven’t spoken by phone or by video call yet. Yuri would not typically care, except that he often finds himself wishing to hear JJ’s voice for once.

He will _never_ admit that. He’s barely acknowledged it when the thought crosses his mind, banishing it back into the dark recesses before he can consider making a call.

Yuri turns to Pavel, who has curled up on the couch with a blanket and a cup of juice. “Pashenka, do you want to talk to JJ?”

Pavel’s eyes go round and bright, though Yuri suspects the excitement has less to do with seeing Yuri’s boyfriend, and more to do with talking to another successful figure skater — one he knows more from the television and online videos than he does from the one public encounter they had at Mila and Sara’s wedding.

“Yeah!” Pavel says.

Yuri gently dislodges Potya from his lap and rises with Lidiya perched on his hip. He retrieves his laptop from his room and carries it out to the coffee table, where he pulls up FaceTime and establishes contact with JJ.

JJ answers on the third ring. “That was fast.”

For a moment, he’s barely visible on the screen, and the video shakes unsteadily with movement. It stabilizes once JJ sets down whatever device he’s using to talk. JJ lowers himself in front of a light gray couch. He must have taken a similar position to Yuri — sitting on the floor behind a coffee table.

Yuri’s gaze immediately zeros in on the baby, who JJ holds in a standing position on his lap. Melody laughs happily and reaches toward the screen, but JJ pulls her back, at which point she begins to bounce up and down like she’s trying to jump.

She wears an ivory dress speckled with tiny black stars. It sports a ruffled collar, with a dark pink cardigan over top, fastened by a bow. Her sparkling headband matches the cardigan, and her legs are covered by a pair of warm black tights. Her pink pacifier falls from her mouth when she smiles, but it doesn’t drop out of sight, attached to her clothes by a beaded clip and chain.

“Baby!” Lidiya shouts in Russian, pointing at the screen from Yuri’s lap.

JJ laughs. More than likely, he has no idea what she said, but her gesture of excitement easily translates over the language barrier.

“She’s even smaller than you,” Yuri says, tickling Lidiya’s side until she giggles and squirms. “Her name is Melody. Can you say hello?” He says “hello” in English instead of Russian.

“Hello!” Lidiya cheers.

Pavel slides off of the couch to sit on his knees next to Yuri. He waves at the screen and exclaims, “Hello!”

“Zdravstvuyte,” JJ greets them in return, earning a grin from Pavel and clapping and giggling from Lidiya. His pronunciation is passable — one of the few phrases he must have picked up from his competitive travels to Russia.

Yuri looks away from the children long enough to study JJ fully. He looks as upbeat as always, dressed in a gray henley and dark blue jeans, ginning broadly as Melody continues her jumping. His stubble has grown in more, edging even closer to a proper beard. Yuri assumed the results would be hit or miss; the stubble was attractive, but a beard could have been a step too far. Not every face wears one well, in Yuri’s opinion. Perhaps unsurprisingly, it’s a good look on JJ. The fact that Isabella wouldn’t like it only adds to Yuri’s satisfaction.

Melody squeals and reaches toward the camera again. JJ gently takes her arm and encourages her to wave. “Say hi to Yuri and Pavel and Lidiya.”

She gurgles. A steady stream of drool wets her chin.

“Yura,” Yuri corrects him.

“What?”

Yuri adjusts Lidiya on his lap so she’s no longer cutting off the circulation in one of his thighs. “You should call me ‘Yura.’”

JJ’s grin widens. “Nine years and a few earth-shattering orgasms later, I finally get to call you that?”

“I might have let you sooner if you weren’t such an obnoxious dick,” Yuri says.

“I’m not convinced you don’t like it,” JJ teases.

Yuri rolls his eyes. He shouldn’t like it at all, especially when JJ’s behavior used to infuriate him like nothing else, but he does occasionally find himself amused by it these days.

“You’re delusional,” he says anyway.

JJ laughs lightly. “And you look as beautiful as always.”

Yuri snorts. He’s wearing flannel pajama pants — white and black leopard print over purple — and a red Team Russia hoodie that doesn’t even come close to matching. His messy hair is wound into a loose brain over one shoulder. The pimples that sprouted up on his chin and near his nose before his recent period haven’t completely faded yet. “Beautiful” is not a word he would use to describe his current appearance, but JJ says it with sincerity all the same.

“Delusional,” Yuri grumbles.

Pavel crowds into the screen before JJ can respond, shouting in Russian, “Teach me the quad lutz!”

Yuri translates. JJ laughs again and says, “You’re a little young for it now. How about when you’re older? I’ll coach you.”

Pavel beams when Yuri recites the answer in Russian.

He and JJ chatter on through Yuri for a good twenty minutes — about skating and the Olympics and random other things like movies and superheroes. Lidiya adds her voice to the commentary every so often, more interested in Melody than JJ. Melody gurgles or babbles nonsense from JJ’s lap, then grabs for one of JJ’s hands to gnaw on the side of his thumb, which JJ allows until her two bottom teeth sink in too hard.

Yuri consents to his role as translator without complaint, amused at first by Pavel’s excitement, then by the ease with which JJ communicates with Pavel and Lidiya even through the language barrier. JJ gives them his full attention when they talk, and he responds as easily as he would if someone was speaking to him in English or Québécois. He’s kind and patient with them. He never seems disinterested. He asks Pavel what he’s learned on the ice and acts suitably impressed when Yuri relays the response to him, which makes Pavel smile proudly. JJ asks Lidiya to show him some of her toys; she picks one of her baby dolls and asks in her imperfect toddler words if she can hold Melody, and JJ says, “Of course! Next time I see you, we can hold her together.”

It’s Yuri who brings their conversation to a halt, complaining good-naturedly, “Pashenka, I want to talk to JJ too. Why don’t you watch your movie for a while. You can talk to him again later.”

Pavel pouts and whines but eventually does what Yuri says, climbing back onto the couch to return his attention to the television. Nearby, Lidiya has distracted herself with a game of make believe, pretending to put her baby doll to sleep; she pulls a blanket off the couch and tucks the doll in on one of Potya's cat beds.

“You’re so good with them,” JJ says. “I can’t remember the last time I’ve seen you this relaxed with anyone. You’re usually so tense and prickly.”

Yuri shrugs. “Kids are easier to deal with than other adults. Most of them haven’t learned how to be douchebags yet, and if you raise them right, they usually never will.”

JJ chuckles and readjusts Melody into a more comfortable position on his lap. She sits and chews on a teething ring JJ reaches for off screen.

“She’s getting chubby,” Yuri observes.

“We Leroys are notoriously robust,” JJ replies with another wide grin.

“So you were a chubby baby?”

“From the day I was born. I think I was a little over 4.3 kilos? Somewhere around there.”

“How big was Melody?”

“And even 4 kilos,” JJ says. “How big were you?”

“Deda says 2.3.”

“ _Tiny_. Were you a premie?”

Yuri shakes his head. “Only three days early.”

“And thin to this day,” JJ marvels, which has Yuri rolling his eyes again. He would respond if he cared to discuss his weight; there’s been enough press talk and unwelcome comments over the years that it’s become another touchy subject. Fortunately, JJ continues without addressing it further. “You really sprouted up, though. You were always a shorty before, so I never thought you’d get so tall.”

“I’m average for a man.”

“But tall for an omega,” JJ counters.

“Whatever,” Yuri scoffs. “You’re still taller.”

“You can thank the Leroy genes for that.”

He can probably thank those same fucking genes for making JJ so handsome, too. Every Leroy Yuri has ever seen has been unfathomably good looking. Time hasn’t depleted Alain’s good looks, and he was practically an international heartthrob back in the 80s and 90s, with JJ being a near spitting image of his father in his prime. Nathalie might not be in perfect shape like she used to be, but beneath age and a fuller face one can still see the spirited beauty she was in her youth. JJ’s brother Charlie is dapper and good-looking, a bit leaner than JJ but otherwise the resemblance is comparable enough that most people can identify them as siblings. Sophie is gorgeously modelesque and irritatingly aware of it. Then there are the younger siblings, all of whom Yuri has seen in pictures — always comely and stylishly dressed, cute as children and just as pleasing to the eye later in life. No doubt Melody will grow up to be just as beautiful.

Staring at them too long has a way of making Yuri feel less attractive. He can’t deny his own good looks, but he lacks the healthy glow that seems inherent in the Leroys. He’s too pale and too thin. His smiles are rare. His face has been prone to blemishes since he was seventeen. He keeps his hair in decent condition, and his eyes are striking enough to earn frequent compliments, but neither of those things are much of a consolation. He’s still a skinny kid from a poor background, usually hiding beneath layers of loose, inexpensive clothing when he isn’t performing or stuck at practice.

Yuri watches JJ through the screen, making a survey of his face the way he did in Colorado Springs. He could get lost in JJ’s eyes if he isn’t careful.

“Have you thought about my offer?” JJ asks, breaking the short silence.

Yuri leans back with a sigh, resting against the front of the couch. He pulls his knees up and glares over top of them, refusing to say what he wants — which is that he’s spent the last month trying _not_ to think about it.

“It’s not a good idea,” he mumbles.

“You’re right. It’s a great idea.”

“I still don’t know what the fuck makes you think that.”

“I’m serious about you,” JJ reminds him. “And based on what I know about you, I’m pretty sure you’re serious about me. We’ve technically been seeing each other since last February, so it’s kind of like we’ve been together for a year. Plus we’ve been friends for at least four years now.”

“That’s a generous interpretation,” Yuri counters.

“You tolerated me about as much as you tolerated everyone else. You just pretended not to because you were too proud to admit you didn’t hate me.”

Yuri clicks his tongue in disgust and curls an arm around Lidiya, who toddles closer to rest her head on his shoulder.

“You want a baby,” JJ continues. “Just seeing you with those two, I can tell you’re gonna be an awesome mom. I like to think I’m a good dad. I’ve always wanted at least two kids. And after Bella, I’m not really interested in doing the whole marriage thing again any time soon. Or at all, if that’s how life goes.”

“Melody’s only seven months old,” Yuri points out.

“So? I was sixteen months old when Charlie was born. Seven plus nine would be sixteen. She’ll be even older than that since we can’t start trying until after Worlds anyway.”

Yuri shifts in place to ease the restless twinge in his gut, setting the side of his head against Lidiya’s and frowning at a random spot on the screen near JJ’s shoulder. He almost confesses about the birth control right then and there, but bites the inside of his cheek to hold himself back.

He didn’t get pregnant. It probably won’t matter if he keeps it to himself. He isn’t prepared to share his reckless behavior with JJ yet. Perhaps he never will. The outcome being what it was, there can’t be any harm in it.

Thank God they’re having this conversation over FaceTime instead of in person. If Yuri could touch JJ and bask in the warmth that radiates from his body, if he could put his nose to JJ’s neck and fill his lung with JJ’s scent, he might not be able to pose any other objections. JJ’s hands would touch him with that mix of reverence and possessiveness; they’d kiss softly at first, gaining passion with each swipe of their tongues, and Yuri would have no sense left in his brain to argue. Everything about this relationship is so new and so different to what he’s grown accustomed to, he has no prior experience with which to construct an adequate defense.

Yuri _longs_ for that hotel room in Colorado Springs, where nothing else existed and the world stopped spinning for a while, and he could let himself fantasize before the reality of the situation came crashing back in.

The reality is that Yuri lives in Russia and JJ lives in Canada. They’re both successful enough in their careers that money wouldn’t be an issue, but those same careers require far too much traveling to make any sort of relationship easy. JJ has a daughter, and a past that could complicate things further. Yuri has no concrete plans for the future yet, just dreams that center around a baby more than anything else. Their circumstances are far from ideal.

Yuri grasps for excuses where he can find them. “Have you even told your wife about us?”

JJ grimaces and sucks air through his teeth on a nervous inhale. “She might have said something about me and you the last time I talked to her, but I brushed it off because I was hoping to tell her after Nationals. She’s coming back next week and I thought it’d be best if she and I sat down and just… talked it out.”

“She’s going to kill me,” Yuri deadpans.

“She’ll be angry, but I don’t think she’d like to spend the rest of her life in jail,” JJ says.

“She would’ve killed me years ago if you weren’t around to stop her.”

“Correct me if I’m wrong, but I seem to remember you charging at her like you were going to gouge her eyes out. Didn’t Bek have to hold you back?”

Yuri huffs and argues, “She called me a second-rate skater with zero talent, and a worthless piece of garbage hiding behind an elitist attitude so I could pretend I’d actually amount to something.”

“And you called her a filthy whore masquerading as the perfect housewife.”

“You mean that’s not what she was?” Yuri says, tone rising with sarcasm. “You said she was hung up on making sure everyone thought she was perfect.”

JJ winces, but whether it’s the result of pain or guilt is unclear. “Okay, the second part is true, but you could have toned down the whore rants.”

“I could have said a lot worse.”

“I don’t doubt it.”

Yuri can’t tell how this turn in the conversation has affected JJ’s mood. He sounds calm enough — uneasy at most, like he expects Yuri to shift from light-hearted comments to actual bickering. This would be so much easier if Yuri could actually detect his scent. He misses that more than anything.

The University of Toronto hoodie doesn’t even smell like JJ anymore. Yuri has worn it so often over the last month that his own scent took over, and he had to add it to his growing pile of laundry after Karina spit up on it.

Aside from a few uneasy shifts of expression, JJ doesn’t look too put off, but he’s always been good at forcing a smile.

Unwilling to end things on a sour note, Yuri decides to stop the battle there. “Maybe just hide her passport when you tell her, so she can’t come hunt me down.”

JJ chuckles quietly. “No one would be stupid enough to give her your actual address.”

“She could send poison through fanmail.”

“Since when have you been so paranoid?”

“I stole her husband,” Yuri says.

“ _Ex_ -husband,” JJ corrects him.

“You’re not her ex until the divorce is final.”

“You still didn’t steal anything. She's done with me. It’s not up to her who I decide to have sex with. Sleeping with you was a conscious choice I made. If she wants to blame someone for it, she can blame me.”

“She won’t.”

Lidiya nudges at Yuri’s knees until he lowers them. She climbs into his lap and cuddles against his chest, sticking her thumb into her mouth in the absence of her pacifier, which she must have lost somewhere in the apartment.

“She looks tired,” JJ observes. “Are they staying the night?”

Yuri would be relieved by the change of topic if he didn’t sense their call coming to an end already. “Yeah. Georgi’s out of town and Nadya won’t be home until after they go to bed, so I offered to keep them here. They like snuggling with Potya.”

“I can let you go,” JJ offers.

Disappointment wends its way around Yuri’s heart, stifling the fluttering beat. His gaze flicks from JJ to Melody, who babbles happily and switches her teething ring from one hand to the other, concentrating on it as if she’s fascinated by its very existence. She shakes it around for a moment, laughing as she does so.

 _I don’t want to hang up_ , Yuri admits to himself.

But Lidiya grows heavy against him. Her eyelids droop with fatigue. She rubs her free hand against one eye and yawns around her thumb.

“Okay,” Yuri agrees.

“When are you leaving for Europeans?”

“The 23rd.”

“I’m flying out to Vancouver on Monday,” JJ says.

“So the time difference will be longer?”

Yuri must not have kept the annoyance out of his voice as well as he thought, because JJ’s eyes go soft and consoling.

“We can still talk. I can FaceTime you again.”

“No.” Yuri glares sternly, mustering up some of his dependable stubbornness. “Focus on Nationals. You can’t let someone else beat you to the gold. Prove to everyone that you’re making a real comeback. You can live with texting for a week. You did for the last month.”

“Yes, sir,” JJ says, grin wide and teasing again. “Try not to miss me too much.”

“You’re more delusional than I thought if you think I would,” Yuri counters, forcing another eyeroll. Over the sound of JJ’s laughter, Yuri calls to Pavel, “Pashenka, come say goodbye to JJ.”

Pavel slinks off the couch to kneel in front of the screen again. He screws his face up, disgruntled about not being able to talk longer, but the dark smudges near his eyes show his fatigue.

“You can talk again soon,” Yuri reassures him.

Pavel waves and says “Bye!” in English. Lidiya follows suit with a muffled “Bye, baby” in Russian.

JJ waves back, then grabs one of Melody’s arms to help her along. “Dasvidaniya!”

Yuri snorts and glances at Melody while he still has the chance. There are visible pieces of Isabella in her, but it doesn’t matter to him at all. She’s adorable, and she’s JJ. She never asked to be in the middle of this mess, the same way Yuri never asked to be stuck in the middle of the mess his father made. Melody shouldn’t have to grow up under the shadow of abandonment, viewed as a mistake and ultimately left behind by her own mother. She’s younger than Yuri was when his douchebag father left, but this could still affect her life. If she ever hears the details of what happened between her parents, it could change the way she views herself.

But she’s innocent. There’s nothing she deserves more than to be loved and cared for.

If only he could see her in person... 

Will she let him hold her once he finally has the chance? Will she smile as much as she has over FaceTime? Will she enjoy any of the nursery rhymes he’s recited with Pavel and Lidiya? How will it feel to spend time with her? Will there be any bitterness, or jealousy? Will it be awkward, or will he take to her immediately, the way he has with every child since Pavel?

Softly, JJ calls to him, “Sweetpea.”

Yuri looks up. A small smile graces JJ’s face, and his gaze remains gentle and fond.

“I want you to think about it,” he says.

Yuri shifts in place uncomfortably. He doesn’t have to ask what JJ means. The subject is obvious. He could pretend otherwise, but there’s no way JJ would believe him. Yuri frowns and prepares to roll his eyes, but JJ cuts him off before he can.

“No eye rolling,” JJ demands, expression suddenly stern. “No denial. No knee-jerk reactions.”

“JJ—”

“Don’t be pessimistic. Think about what you _want_ , because that’s the most important thing right now, not what might happen years down the road.”

“But—”

“No one knows what’s going to happen in the future. I thought Bella and I would be together for the rest of our lives, but that didn’t happen. We fell apart, and we figured out where to go from there.”

“That’s not the same as—”

“I meant it when I said I’m serious about you,” JJ continues, growing more insistent the more Yuri tries to interrupt him. “I’ll do whatever it takes to convince you, but I think if you’re honest with yourself, I don’t really have to convince you about anything. You know who I am. You know how much I value honesty. You know I wouldn’t lie to you. I’ve teased you, and I’ll probably keep teasing you, but I’m not playing any games here.”

“Will you cut this monologue short if I say, ‘okay, I’ll think about it?’” Yuri finally cuts in.

JJ’s lips quirk again. He’s so fucking handsome it almost makes Yuri sick. “Promise you will.”

Yuri huffs loud enough for JJ to hear it clearly. “Fuck, okay, I promise. Cross my heart and hope to die and all that shit.”

“You’re so cute when you’re annoyed.”

“So you’ve said.”

JJ doesn’t shrink away from Yuri’s severe look. “I said you’re cute when you’re angry.”

“It’s all the same thing, isn’t it?”

“Yuraaaaaa,” Pavel whines, lowering his head onto the shoulder not currently occupied by Lidiya.

JJ’s smile shrinks into something small and fond again. “Get them to bed. We can talk again soon.”

“After Nationals,” Yuri reminds him.

“Wish me luck?”

Yuri manages to roll his eyes this time, restraining a smirk in the process. “Good luck. Win gold. Make the rest of this season a challenge for me. It’s been dull without you.”

“I knew you missed me,” JJ teases.

“You’re still delusional.”

JJ laughs, tossing his head in that charming way that means he’s truly amused. “Good night, babydoll.”

“Yeah, okay, dickhead. Go do whatever it is you do all day when you’re not being a pain in my ass.”

“Honestly, I’m usually thinking about you naked.”

Yuri snorts. “Don’t be indecent around the children.”

“Says you. How many times have you sworn in front of them tonight?”

“Good thing they don’t know much English,” Yuri says, like he doesn’t also swear in Russian. He’s lucky Pavel and Lidiya have been learning not to repeat any of it; he got an earful from Lilia the one time Lidiya dropped a toy into the dirt outside and shouted, _“Shit!”_

“See you soon, sweetpea,” JJ says.

Yuri’s only response is a pathetic wave. The call disconnects and he closes FaceTime, staring listlessly at the tiger background on his laptop.

A cold, dark loneliness creeps over Yuri. With Pavel and Lidiya quiet with fatigue, he’s reminded again of his small, silent apartment — the empty bed; the bare furnishings; the solitary meals. He almost regrets moving out of Lilia’s place, though Yuri knows the loneliness would find him there, too.

 _I miss him_.

The thought sickens him, but he can’t escape it.

Damn it all. What has JJ done to him?

When Lidiya shifts and releases another yawn around her thumb, Yuri shuts his computer and helps them both get ready for bed. He changes Lidiya’s diaper and guides them into pajamas. He makes sure Pavel uses the toilet and brushes his teeth, then finds Lidiya’s pacifier in the kitchen under the small dining table Yuri never really uses.

They crowd into Yuri’s bed together. Yuri takes one side while Pavel and Potya snuggle on the other. Lidiya rests between them, closing her heavy eyes as she curls against Yuri’s chest, gripping onto his hoodie with one of her small hands.

Yuri presses his nose to her hair and breathes in the scent of her baby shampoo.

He falls asleep to the quiet sounds of their breathing, then wakes before them in the morning and watches over their sleeping forms.

For once, he doesn’t fight the longing in his heart, but lets it consume him.

* * *

[A picture of JJ on the podium at the Canadian National Championships with a gold medal draped around his neck. He looks like he’s trying to go for a smug grin but can’t quite manage it and wears a wide, overjoyed smile instead. He has his hands up in his signature JJ Style pose.]

**97,820 likes**

**Jjleroy!15** I did a thing!!! This one’s for all the people who never gave up on me, including my amazing family, my wonderful fans, and all my kickass friends around the world! #nationals2023 #vancouver #leroydynasty #goforgold #jjstyle #livingmybestlife

 **leo_de_la_iglesia** Congrats man!!!  
**Jjeroy!15** @leo_de_la_iglesia Dude man congrats to you too!!   
**leo_de_la_iglesia** @Jjleroy!15 They’re not getting rid of us yet!  
**+guanghongji+** @Jjleroy!5 @leo_de_la_iglesia Who are “they”???  
**Jjleroy!15** @leo_de_la_iglesia @+guanghongji+ Young people obviously  
**yuri_plisetsky** @Jjleroy!15 @leo_de_la_iglesia @+guanghongji+ Right because you’re both so old  
**leo_de_la_iglesia** @Jjleroy!15 @+guanghongji+ @yuri_plisetsky 27s coming up fast  
**mila-babicheva** Gold never looked so good ;D  
**yuri_plisetsky** @mila-babicheva Stop flirting with him  
**mila-babicheva** @yuri_plisetsky :|  
**+guanghongji+** @mila-babicheva @yuri_plisetsky :|  
**sophie-leroy00** @mila-babicheva @yuri_plisetsky @+guanghongji+ :|  
**Jjleroy!15** @mila-babicheva @yuri_plisetsky @+guanghongji+ @sophie-leroy00 :)  
**_emil_nekola_** Duuuuuuuuude!!!!!  
**Jjleroy!15** @_emil_nekola_ Thanks for all the pep talks man  
**_emil_nekola_** @Jjleroy!15 Dude no problem. Good to see you back in it!  
**yuri_plisetsky** @Jjleroy!15 @_emil_nekola_ You’ve been getting your pep talks from Emil????  
**Jjleroy!15** @_emil_nekola_ @yuri_plisetsky Emil gives the best pep talks. Who have you been getting yours from?  
**yuri_plisetsky** @_emil_nekola_ @Jjleroy!15 Myself

JANUARY 20

* * *

Finally, Yuri thinks about it.

He thinks about it every time he and JJ text. He thinks about it during the entire week of the Canadian National Championships, when he pulls up the scores and video on his phone to see JJ make a shaky start but ultimately take home the gold by a narrow margin. He thinks about it when Karina falls asleep on his chest. He thinks about it while he packs his bags for the European Championships. He thinks about it when he washes JJ’s hoodie, and when he slides JJ’s ring along his necklace. He thinks about it every time he sits down for a meal alone, on his couch with the television on for background noise, while Potya sniffs around and meows at him to share his food with her. He thinks about it during Skype calls with Otabek, when he can’t conjure up that image of a surly little boy anymore, because all he can think about are JJ’s eyes and Melody’s round cheeks.

He thinks about it every time he passes the trash can, even though his birth control is long gone by now. He thinks about it when Yakov grumbles during practice, either about being too old or too tired, or both, and Yuri knows without asking that Yakov plans to retire once Yuri’s competitive career comes to an end. He thinks about it when he talks to Deda, who always has questions and comments about JJ every time Yuri calls. (“How old is he? He has a daughter? Have you met her? He’s the tall one with the tattoos, isn’t he? Don’t you go covering yourself with tattoos now, Yurochka. One is enough.”) He thinks about it when Mila and Viktor try to meddle, offering him advice about love and sex while he blocks his ears and complains loudly enough to drown them out. He thinks about it when he’s at the barre with Lilia in the afternoons, with nothing but quiet music and oft repeated praises, and the pride that shines in Lilia’s eyes more and more each year.

Yuri thinks about what their baby might look like. Dark haired, most likely, unless there’s some blonde hidden in the Leroy genes somewhere. Blue eyed, if he got to pick, though green would be nice, too, since Deda has green eyes. Maybe an alpha, just to balance out all the omega children. But boy or girl? Yuri can’t decide. Either way, they should definitely take after JJ in the personality department. They’d fair better with JJ’s fearless optimism instead of Yuri’s temper.

Would the baby resemble Melody at all? How would Melody respond to having a sibling?

Then there are the other concerns — the more important ones, like living arrangements, or what getting pregnant would mean for Yuri’s career. What would he do for work? Would it be better if he and JJ lived together? Where? How would they divvy up the responsibilities if they didn’t? What about medical costs? Emergency funds? Schooling?

How would they handle the inevitable fallout with Isabella?

 _There’s no way this could work_ , Yuri concludes. Even if they managed to keep things go for a while, there’s no way to know how compatible he and JJ actually are — not as romantic partners, and certainly not as parents.

They’ve always been complete opposites. JJ has been privileged since birth, while Yuri was raised poor and became the main provider for his family at a very young age. JJ is part of a large, close-knit family, and Yuri is an only child with a troubled past and few blood relatives left alive. JJ is an extrovert and an idealist, while Yuri is an introvert and a cynic. JJ has become a successful musician, fashion designer, _and_ figure skater; Yuri might model on occasion, but he is a figure skater first and foremost, one who consents to promotional work not for any affinity he has for the product he’s selling, but for the much needed money it brings in. JJ is a known philanthropist and humanitarian, while Yuri is an indifferent skeptic with few charitable donations to his name.

JJ is a thriving single father, and Yuri is a hot mess.

Their relationship could continue or end in any number of ways. They might be relatively predictable under normal circumstances, but that was always _before_ , when they were rivals instead of lovers. Their relationship isn’t like that anymore. There’s more depth to it, more emotion, and Yuri has no idea what to expect.

He carries these thoughts with him during his travels to Vienna. Unfortunately, the European Championships promise to offer even less of a distraction than everything else. Practice will be dull without JJ around grinning and winking and pulling his ponytail. The press coverage will be annoying, and the Angels as cloying as always. Yuri avoids as many people as he can from the moment he arrives at the hotel, except for his coaches and Emil — and Mickey, who came along to support his partner; and Yuuri, the only coach to accompany Vasiliy while Viktor stays home with Karina.

Everything seems so pointless without Viktor to defeat, without Chris being lewd out on the ice, without Georgi’s theatrics or Mila’s pestering, dragging Yuri out for dancing and drinking and sightseeing.

 _I’m so fucking tired_ , Yuri thinks.

Somewhere along the way, he lost his inspiration.

He’s had a career to be proud of, yet the longer this season stretches on, the more Yuri wants it to end. He needs a break — a year off, at least. Maybe more. If he changes his mind later and the time away is good to him, he could be ready for the 2026 Olympics, so long as he plays his cards right and keeps himself in shape. And he will, because he can’t imagine a life without the ice or ballet, whether he has a baby or not. His body will change if he gets pregnant, but that’s not a hurdle he can’t overcome; after adapting to the rapid change in his height, he’s confident about his ability to make adjustments.

Ironically, the thing that sets everything into motion is a DM from Isabella.

Either she stumbled across some incriminating evidence online, or JJ finally told her about the relationship. Yuri can only imagine what a shitshow that must have been.

He sighs and scrubs a hand through his hair, restless and fed up with the solitude of his hotel room.

 _Fuck it_.

Yuri retrieves his phone and pulls up his text messages.

> **Yuri:**  
>  Are you home yet?  
>  I want to FaceTime
> 
> **JJ:**  
>  Hypocrite  
>  Focus on Europeans  
>  I expect you to take gold
> 
> **Yuri:**  
>  Bastard  
>  If you’re back in Montreal it’s only afternoon for you  
>  I have time right now
> 
> **JJ:**  
>  I’m tempted to say no just for the sheer pleasure of thinking you might be pining for me
> 
> **Yuri:**  
>  Fuck you I’m not pining

Except the longer JJ stalls, the more Yuri comes to realize he _is_ pining. He wants to see JJ’s face and hear his voice. He wants to jump on another plane from Vienna to Montreal so they can nestle close and breathe the same air for a while. Nothing would make him happier than for JJ to randomly show up during practice again, but Yuri knows better than to expect that a second time. JJ has too many responsibilities at home to keep flying all over the world for him, especially after just completing a competition himself.

> **JJ:**  
>  Let me dream sweetpea
> 
> **Yuri:**  
>  Just tell me if it’s a good time to call
> 
> **JJ:**  
>  Greedy  
>  I didn’t call you when you told me not to
> 
> **Yuri:**  
>  That was different
> 
> **JJ:**  
>  Was it?
> 
> **Yuri:**  
>  Fine jackass  
>  I don’t WANT to talk  
>  We NEED to talk

The FaceTime call comes through before Yuri can throw his phone onto the bed in aggravation. He accepts it on his laptop, already open on the bed in front of him. Yuri glares when JJ’s face appears on the screen.

“What’s wrong?” JJ asks.

The white cabinets in the background seem to suggest that he’s sitting in or around someone’s kitchen. Melody babbles somewhere out of sight, but from the lack of any other voices, Yuri assumes he’s caught JJ away from the rest of his family. 

He must have had an early flight if he managed to get home and have it out with Isabella already. The subtle slump to his shoulders and lack of precision in his posture certainly points to his exhaustion. His hair is ruffled like he didn’t bother to do much with it that morning, and the loose, faded t-shirt he chose to wear is a far cry from his usual style. There’s just enough tension around his eyes that Yuri can tell JJ was in a poor mood even before the vague texts sparked his concern.

“I’m guessing the conversation with your wife didn’t go well,” Yuri says.

“What makes you say that?”

“You look like shit.”

He doesn’t, of course. JJ looks good no matter what; he probably isn’t even an ugly crier. At most, pushing himself so hard during Nationals and returning to his troubles at home have left him drained. No doubt he’ll bounce right back after getting some sleep and a good meal.

Yuri thought seeing JJ would help calm his own restless anxiety, but his nerves continue to fray in the face of JJ’s weariness, and that urge to get out the next flight to Montreal grows ever stronger.

“And your wife sent me a rude DM,” Yuri continues, bringing himself back into focus.

“She _what_?” JJ grounds out, voice deepening as the tension around his eyes increases. “What did she say?”

Yuri effects a careless shrug. “Apparently she felt the need to remind me how much she hates me. As if I don’t already know that.”

“Did you message her back?”

“Yeah. I told her I don’t give a fuck what she thinks and we’re going to keep fucking whether she likes it or not. Just not in those exact words.”

With his eyes closed, JJ releases a heavy breath and drops his forehead into one of his palms. “I told her to leave you alone.”

Yuri snorts. “You expected her to listen?”

“I was hoping she still had some class.”

“I don’t give a shit if she has class or not. _I_ don’t have class.”

JJ shifts in his chair and directs a narrow-eyed stare at whatever surface he’s sitting in front of, lowering his hand to rub at his jaw. “I’m sorry. I’ll talk to her again.”

“Don’t bother,” Yuri scoffs. “It’s not like she’ll listen. I don’t expect you to start apologizing for her bullshit.”

“I don’t want her harassing you.”

“I can take care of myself. I’ve been dealing with this shit from her since Barcelona. You think this is the first time she’s DMed me?”

JJ meets Yuri’s eyes again, expression tormented. “I should’ve put a stop to this years ago. I don’t know what I was thinking.”

“Obviously you _weren’t_ thinking. You were young and dumb as fuck.”

“I’d rather have her yell at me again instead of going after you. This crap between me and her isn’t your problem.”

“It became my problem as soon as I fucked you,” Yuri argues.

He should be more annoyed with the situation, but Yuri finds it oddly reassuring — and touching, in a way — that JJ feels so guilty about their past. Some of it was JJ’s fault to begin with; he was the one who started the teasing, and he either laughed at his wife’s antics or egged her on when the conflict first began. That JJ regrets it now proves to Yuri how much he’s changed. He isn’t that arrogant douchebag anymore. He really _has_ matured, putting far more thought into his actions than he used to.

When JJ doesn’t respond except to roughly shove his hand through his hair, Yuri prods him along. “So she bitched at you about it?”

JJ drops his hand and lets out a quiet, bitter little laugh. “Yeah. Sometimes it feels like I don’t even know who she is anymore. We were never like this until we separated.”

Melody shouts from nearby — a loud, long whine of impatience. JJ scrambles to pick up a tiny spoon and a container of green baby food, scooping some out and offering it to her off camera. She must eat it, because the spoon comes back empty.

“Did you fight back at least?” Yuri asks.

“I was calm for most of it, but I lost it as soon as she tried to bring Mel into it.”

“What the fuck. What did she do?”

Hesitantly, JJ says, “She told me she doesn’t want you around Mel.”

Yuri’s chest tightens and his heart drops, stomach twisting into one large knot. His mouth falls open, but he shuts it quickly and forces himself to think of something to say that isn’t an immediate cry of outrage. He can’t give in to that impulse, no matter how badly he might want to, not with Melody in the room. What would JJ think about having his daughter around someone who can’t control their temper, especially right after he and his wife just finished arguing about it?

Eventually, Yuri manages to choke out half a question. “And what did you—…”

“I told her she doesn’t have any business making demands like that when she’s barely been around these last seven months,” JJ says.

His tired eyes narrow even more, mouth pressing into a straight line, like he’s struggling with restraint but trying his best to keep his expression neutral with Melody so close by. His voice betrays him, sharp and low as he continues to ramble.

“Then she asked me, ‘Is this the shit Plisetsky’s been feeding you?’ And I said, ‘No, this is what happens when you decide you need time and space and _I’m_ the one who’s been responsible for Melody since she day she was born.”

Something in Yuri softens while witnessing JJ’s indignation. With the way JJ spoke of Isabella in Colorado Springs, Yuri assumed he would never see any anger there, only a sense of heartfelt loss and compassion, the latter of which JJ seemed to stubbornly cling to no matter what challenges rose between them. JJ loved her once; maybe there’s a part of him that loves her still, holding onto hope for some sort of reconciliation.

Or perhaps this frustration has been there all along, lurking beneath the excitement and positivity JJ projects to the rest of the world. He’s opening up to Yuri more than before, revealing himself layer by layer. 

This is the _truth._  JJ has been hurt and discouraged, and he probably hates that he feels either of those things. He would want to be tolerant and fair toward his wife, constantly considerate of her feelings. He would try, _earnestly_ , to forgive her, because that’s who JJ is at heart. He is endlessly kind and supportive, and empathetic in a way Yuri could never be.

 _I want to kiss him_ , Yuri thinks, longing for closeness, melting the way he often does when he’s treated to a previously undiscovered piece of JJ. Yuri doesn’t offer comfort to many people, yet he finds his anxiety growing when he can’t reach out and take JJ’s face between his hands, press his lips to JJ’s mouth as if to silently tell him, _“You don’t need her. You never needed her.”_

 _This is protectiveness_ , Yuri realizes.

It takes him by surprise, launching another thousand butterflies into his stomach. 

“You know what hurt worse than Bella giving up on our marriage?” JJ continues, spooning more food toward Melody. He glances in her direction instead of meeting Yuri’s eye. “The fact that she didn’t even try to bond with Mel in the hospital. She just gave birth like it hardly mattered and that was it.”

Yuri squirms in place, scratching his fingers through his hair until the uncomfortable feeling begins to fade away.

“And I know she thought it was a mistake, and I’m fine if she wants to have her own life and leave Melody to me. I’m grateful she went through with the pregnancy at all. But she could’ve made an effort to connect with her, or acknowledge her more than, ‘Alright, well, that’s that then.’”

Yuri hums a response more to console than to agree. He couldn’t disagree more. If Isabella was going to leave and keep her distance, there was no point bonding with a child she might never want.

“Even when she’d come around sometimes after Mel was born, it was like she only did it because she felt obligated. All she did was watch her. She never really held her. She never asked questions about her, and she always shut me down when I tried to talk about her.” 

JJ’s jaw tightens when he pauses, swallowing with difficulty. He glances off to the side so only his profile is visible, but there’s a dampness to the one silver-blue eye Yuri has access to.

_I need to kiss him._

“I picked Melody’s name. I was the first person to hold her after the nurses and Bella’s mom. I looked into her eyes before Bella did. I picked out her clothes. I saw her first smile. I watched her learn to roll over. I held her all night the first time she got sick. I’m the one who makes her laugh. I’m the one who sings to her every night before bed. I’m the one who worries about her. I’m the one who loves her. I’m the one making sure she has a good life. And now Bella thinks she can tell me who I can and can’t have around my daughter?”

Not _our_ daughter. _My_ daughter. Melody is JJ’s baby. She will always be JJ’s baby. She never belonged to Isabella, and if Yuri ever has any say over the matter at all, she never will.

If he was never his father’s son, Melody doesn’t have to be her mother’s daughter.

Yuri frowns openly, caught between his own anger and a burgeoning helplessness.

This is everything JJ has been trying to hold back about his marriage. This is what he’s been hiding under his wide smiles and loving eyes and his endless mercy. Isabella didn’t just spring the end of their marriage on him, she completely abandoned him and the baby, just as Yuri suspected. She let go of everything they built together, without any pity for the husband she claimed to love, or the baby she made the choice to have.

She was selfish and irresponsible, unfit to be a mother or a wife, nothing more than a stupid fangirl swept away by high school puppy love, all for a man she supported without question, then threw away as soon as she became overwhelmed by it. She gave JJ everything, and she took it back before he had the chance to try fixing any of it. She left him reeling, hopeless and despondent. Then, when he found his silver lining in Melody, when he had something to be happy about again, something he must have felt was worth all the pain, Isabella brushed it off like none of it mattered.

And now she has the gall to demand an opinion?

 _He’s mine,_ Yuri seethes. _He’s mine and she hurt him._

Making a concerted effort to mask the fury in his voice, Yuri asks, “Will she make an issue out of it?”

JJ sniffs wetly, dropping the spoon back into the empty container of baby food to brush at his eye with the side of his hand. “She acted like she was going to, but she’s just being spiteful. She regretted getting pregnant and she hasn’t been around for Mel long term. She doesn’t want sole custody and both of our families agree Mel should stay with me. Bella knows I’d win if she tried to turn this into a custody battle.”

No matter how confident JJ sounds, Yuri wouldn’t put it passed Isabella to try taking Melody away just to be a bitch. She’s no less mean or vindictive than Yuri, only now she has more fuel for the unrelenting fire that always raged between them.

JJ quickly brushes at his other eye, then turns to Yuri again, expression back under control. “You’re fine, okay?” he says, tone still low, but comforting now. “I’ll take care of it. Don’t let this bother you.”

“Shut up,” Yuri snaps. “I don’t give a shit about me right now. I’m going to call her out on her bullshit.”

He should send her another DM — a long rant full of insults, or every single expletive he knows in all the languages he’s ever learned. If Isabella thinks he’s going to sit back and let her get away with this shit, she’s got another thing coming.

“Fuck her, and fuck civility. If I see that bitch again, I’m gouging her fucking eyes out the way I wanted to years ago.”

Of course JJ has to put a stop to that before Yuri can get too carried away.

“Sweetpea,” he says, with all the patience of a saint.

“ _What_?”

JJ’s mouth twitches into a meager smile. “I’m flattered that you’re angry on my behalf, but I don’t want to make this worse. Bella’s never going to like that I’m in a relationship with you, but she also doesn’t have the right to make any demands about it.”

“But—”

“You can hate her if you want. You can say whatever you want to say about her, as long as Melody doesn’t ever have to hear it. You never have to see Bella again if you don’t want to. I’ll do whatever I have to do to keep her away. But _please_ don’t go after her. If not for me, then for Mel.”

Damn that bastard. He always knows exactly what to say to curb Yuri’s vengeful impulses. The fury doesn’t ebb, but Yuri still crumbles inwardly. Melody laughs just off screen, somewhere to JJ’s right. A banging noise jars the speakers, like Melody has taken to slapping her hands against a solid surface.

Yuri squeezes his eyes shut, inhales deeply, and gives in, slumping onto the mattress to release a groan into the bedding.

“Okay?” JJ prompts him.

“ _Fine_ ,” Yuri says, lifting his head enough to shoot a glare at the screen.

JJ’s smile widens, frustration melting out of him as his eyes turn fond again. “Thank you.”

The screen flips around; JJ vanishes and Melody appears in his place, strapped into a high chair. She smacks her hands onto the attached tray, laughing as if the racket she’s making is the funniest thing she’s ever heard. Smeared around her mouth and cheeks are streaks of whatever JJ was feeding her. A light blue bib hangs around her neck, with a little cat face over her chest and tiny cat ears at her shoulders.

She’s so fucking adorable. Yuri would give anything to reach through the screen and poke her cheeks, or tap a finger against the tip of her nose and watch her go cross-eyed.

A chair scrapes against the floor off screen. Footsteps drift away from whatever device JJ has been using. He rummages around somewhere, opening and closing drawers the kitchen, followed by a stream of running water. JJ returns to the screen with a washcloth to clean up Melody’s face, hands, and chair. She giggles and blows bubbles with her droll, then goes right back to her banging once JJ completes his task.

Yuri rolls onto his stomach, moving his laptop into a better position so he can watch Melody while JJ continues to putter around. With his chin atop his crossed arms, Yuri lets himself brood.

Just when he was finally starting to come around to the idea of maybe agreeing with JJ’s stupid plan to have a baby — or at least give it further consideration  — this shit with Isabella has to happen and shove him right back to square one.

How can JJ possibly suggest such a thing _knowing_ Isabella would be furious? What sort of reckless logic has he been tainted with, and where did it come from? Yuri would think it was spite if he had any suspicions that JJ might be the spiteful sort. Since Yuri has no proof of that, he’s forced to come up with another explanation, but the only other thing he can think of is that JJ just feels sorry for him.

Does he have any sort of plan? Has he been thinking about it as much as he encouraged Yuri to think about it? Or is this some sort of instinctive response to his broken marriage? Like a rebound, only with babies?  He wanted more kids with his wife but won’t be getting any now, so maybe he’s jumping at the first chance he sees to satisfy his paternal drive.

“So how would it even work?” Yuri asks.

Melody glances toward the screen at the sound of his voice and shows the camera a large smile. Yuri’s heart melts before he can stop it, mouth curving to return the gesture.

JJ pops back into view with a sandwich and a red sports drink. “What do you mean?” he asks around a large bite.

Yuri forces the smile off of his face before JJ can take notice. “You and me, and that stupid idea you told me to think about.”

“ _Have_ you been thinking about it? 

“I wouldn’t bother bringing it up if I wasn’t.”

JJ moves up and down a few times, like he’s bouncing on his feet. “ _And_ …?”

Yuri releases a gust of breath hard enough to disturb the hair in front of his face. Exasperated, he pushes it back and tucks a particularly troublesome lock behind his ear.

“I still think it’s a stupid idea,” he says.

“But you want to talk about it?” JJ drags a chair closer to Melody so he can sit within view of the screen, settling in to wolf down his sandwich.

Unwilling to admit when JJ might be right about something, Yuri outright refuses to say “yes,” but they won’t get anywhere if he continues to be obstinate about it, so he shrugs and waits for JJ to encourage him along.

“What’s on your mind, sweetpea?”

“How would it work as far as the two of us living in different countries?”

That seems like one of the more crucial hurdles to overcome. They could continue to live separately if they chose to, but traveling between countries would be impractical with a baby involved. Someone would have to move, and Yuri is fairly sure that someone would be him. The question remains: is he prepared to do that?

JJ begins slowly, making a cautious study of Yuri’s face. “Well… how’s your French?”

“Decent enough for France. It depends on the accent everywhere else.

“But you can get by if you need to?”

With an impatient roll of his eyes, Yuri asks, “Isn’t that what ‘decent enough’ means?”

Carefully, like he’s gauging Yuri’s reaction to every word, JJ says, “I’ve been thinking about buying a house.”

“Don’t you already have a house?” Yuri counters.

He’s never bothered to ask where exactly JJ has been living in Montreal. From references to “home” and “the house” in JJ’s text messages, Yuri simply assumed JJ already has his own place separate from Isabella.

“I’ve been using Mom and Papa’s guest house. Bella and I had a condo together. She stays there when she’s in town.”

Yuri almost sputters “Your parents have a _guest house_?” but manages to hold back his surprise, because _of course_ they do. JJ’s family is the closest thing to figure skating royalty anyone could ever possibly _be_. Viktor was a worldwide superstar, referred to by most of the community as a living legend, but he came out of nowhere and made a splash on the scene without any family history. The Leroys have established a fucking dynasty over the last thirty years or so, ever since Alain and Nathalie dominated ice dance back in the late 80s and early 90s. Every Leroy since then has won an Olympic gold medal — two, in fact, between the individual and team events. Alain and Nathalie won _three_ , long before the team event came into existence. Beyond that, the number of World medals between them has to be astronomical.

Certainly they didn’t make _all_ their money through figure skating, but then JJ also didn’t run JJ Style on his own when he started the brand as a pre-teen. Alain and Nathalie would have helped, and likely still have a stake in it, which offers them multiple avenues from which to build their fortune.

Just like JJ, with his music and his modeling and his clothing line, raking in money from every direction.

“It’s been on my mind since Bella and I split,” JJ explains. “I just want a fresh start, you know? I love my family and staying here has helped a lot this last year, but I like being independent, and I want a place of my own where Melody can grow up.”

Yuri hums in agreement. Given JJ’s circumstances, purchasing a house seems like a logical step for him. Yuri can’t fault him for it. JJ’s commitment to the idea would just leave him with the difficult choice of staying where he is, or moving to be closer.

“I’ve seen a place I like.” JJ continues to eye Yuri warily. “It’s old, so I’d have to put some work into it. The floors need refinishing. I’d want to update the kitchen. Maybe enclose part of the back porch to make a sunroom. Some of the light fixtures aren’t really my style and the wallpaper is pretty dated, but that’s an easy fix.”

In the absence of any other remark, Yuri nods.

“There’s plenty of space and a decent yard. Enough for Mel to run around once she’s walking.”

“How big is the house?” Yuri finally finds his voice to ask.

“Six bedrooms, four bathrooms, and that’s without finishing the basement.”

“What the _fuck_ do you need that many bedrooms for?”

JJ chuckles and says, “Room to grow. And I imagine I’ll have guests every once in a while.”

Melody squawks irritably and reaches for JJ, who shoves the last of his sandwich into his mouth and mumbles “hold on” around it while he removes her bib and unstraps her from the highchair. He carries both Melody and his device away from the kitchen; based on a brief glimpse of the gray couch from their last call, Yuri assumes they end up in the living area. JJ plops down onto a decorative rug, right in the middle of a sea of toy. Melody squirms out of his lap and drags herself forward on her arms, heading for a couple of plastic balls and stackable rings of various sizes. She grabs the largest yellow ring and starts gnawing on it.

When JJ has the screen level again, Yuri presses on. “I’d have to retire. Or take a hiatus. What would I even do for a career? I’m not going to be anyone’s fucking housewife.”

“I never thought you would,” JJ says through a snicker. “What were you thinking of doing once you stop competing?”

“Choreographing. I’d be a terrible coach.”

“You’re a pretty good mix of Feltsman and Baranovskaya. I’m sure you’d be a great coach if you ever wanted to do it.”

Yuri hums again, less to agree this time and more to acknowledge a statement he doesn’t particularly agree with.

“What about giving private ballet lessons between working on choreography?” JJ asks.

“Who would even _want_ to take lessons from me?”

“I can think of a few people. Jamie idolizes you. He’s been taking inspiration from you since he was a kid.”

“Who, Jamie Landry? The junior champion?”

“He’ll be making his senior debut next season,” JJ clarifies.

With a concerned frown, Yuri asks, “When is his birthday?”

“February. Why?”

“I happen to like being the youngest man to win the senior Grand Prix Final,” Yuri grumbles.

JJ tips his head on a laugh, eyes dancing with amusement. “Don’t worry, babe. That claim to fame will still be yours for a while. I plan on taking the gold next season.”

Yuri snorts. He almost smirks, too, but he sinks his teeth into his bottom lip and holds it back at the last second. JJ’s confidence used to be annoying, but it relieves Yuri to see him getting some of it back. Pleasant as some of the changes have been, he wouldn’t really be JJ without that pompous swagger.

“You said ‘a few,’” Yuri reminds him. “Who else is there?”

“My younger sister Alice might be interested. She’ll be sixteen in October, so she’s moving up to seniors next season too. And we have Andy, one of our novices. He’s eleven.”

Yuri falls silent. Unable to bear the restrained enthusiasm on JJ’s face, he glances away to watch Melody instead. She rolls onto her back and shakes the yellow ring. The toy slips from her drool covered hand and falls right onto her face with a soft smack, but she only shouts discontentedly before shoving it back toward her mouth to continue gnawing at it.

Whoever dressed her put her in overalls today — a dark wash denim with pink cuffs rolled up at the ankles, and several pink butterflies embroidered over the chest. The white shirt beneath sports a collar of eyelet lace and ruffles at each wrist. Matching white socks cover her feet. She’s bowless today, showing off more of her dark hair, which seems to grow in thicker with every new photo Yuri receives.

“I would have to leave Russia,” Yuri says, failing to keep the note of sadness out of his voice.

An uneasy moment passes between them. Yuri continues to watch Melody instead of meeting JJ’s eye, but he can sense the change in JJ’s demeanor anyway. It seems strange to him that he can be so aware of these things with so much distance separating them. He doesn’t need JJ’s scent to know his statement draws out JJ’s guilty conscience. His other instincts serve him just as well.

Perhaps he knows JJ better than he thought.

“I’d never ask you to leave if you don’t want to,” JJ says, low and soft with sympathy. “I haven’t made an offer on the house yet. I can look for places in Saint Petersburg instead.”

The selfish streak in Yuri perks up, tempted by the suggestion. He wouldn’t have to move — a decision made painful not by any particular fondness he has for his homeland, but due to the loved ones he would be leaving behind. JJ could come to Saint Petersburg and save Yuri the heartache. They could figure this relationship out with the benefit of proximity. They could have a baby, and all the jealousy and impatience Yuri has been experiencing would finally melt away.

But Yuri’s conscience, quiet though it might often be, won’t let him agree.

JJ would be giving up too much just to satisfy him — maybe everything. He would lose his coaches and his family. Parts of his career might have to be put on hold. He would be taking Melody away from everyone who has ever loved her, all so Yuri could have what he wants without having to sacrifice a damned thing.

“No.”

Melody rolls onto her stomach, propping herself up on her forearms to stare at her toys like she’s trying to decide which one she’d rather play with next.

“You’d have to change coaches,” Yuri explains. “You’ve been working with your parents for years. You’re comfortable with them. Changing now might do more harm than good.”

“Then we can work things out the way they are now. Traveling isn’t an issue for me.”

“You’re fucking insane if you think that’s our best option.”

From the long, heavy pause that follows, Yuri can predict JJ’s next suggestion before the words even leave his mouth.

“I can retire.”

Yuri shuts his eyes just as Melody reaches for a stuffed octopus. “ _Don’t_. You just got back. You can’t—”

“I’ll be twenty-seven this year,” JJ reminds him.

“ _So_?”

“So maybe this is the right time.”

“It isn’t,” Yuri snaps. When he opens his eyes again, he fixes JJ with a burning glare. “Why the fuck would you bother coming back at all if you’re just going to fuck off again after one season?”

“Yura—”

“I said _no_!”

JJ gives a start at Yuri’s tone, brow furrowing with more concern.

Never rising from his stomach, Yuri kicks one of the plush hotel pillows behind him. He still can’t look JJ in the eye, so he drops his head forward and buries his face into his arms

“It was shit when you were gone,” he admits, voice muffled from his position, but loud enough that JJ should be able to hear him. “You just… you were there one second, and then you were _gone_ , and nothing felt the same anymore.”

He can see it clearly without making an effort to focus on the memory — Beijing, and the fall that brought an end to their rivalry.

That season, Yuri spent his Grand Prix assignments preparing himself for the punishing duel at the Final. JJ was in first after the short program, less than a point ahead of Yuri. Their long programs were almost evening matched; JJ usually beat him in the technical elements, but Yuri received the higher component scores. Yuri finished his free skate with a season’s best score. He ignored the requests for interviews and waited, seething with impatience, for JJ to skate last.

The first half of JJ’s long program exists as nothing more than a blur. The only part Yuri’s mind can replay for him is the moment JJ’s leg gave out after a blundered landing on a quad flip.

Yuri squeezes his eyes shut against the guilt and the dissatisfaction, fisting the blanket between tense fingers.

“Everything went to shit,” he says, voice rising in volume with every word, “and winning didn’t even feel like an accomplishment anymore, because you weren’t there being an obnoxious jackass and getting in my way and making it a challenge for me! I was undefeated last season! I’m undefeated this season! It’s bullshit!”

He hasn’t gone undefeated since his two years in the junior division. He relished it when he was younger; he got so used to standing at the top of the podium that his first silver medal after moving up to the senior ranks came as a complete shock. Back then, he wanted to _remain_ undefeated. It would have been historic, more so than it already was when he won the senior Grand Prix Final at the age of fifteen.

At some point after Barcelona, around the time Yuri’s social circle began to expand beyond his grandfather, his coaches, and his rinkmates, dominance became less satisfying to him than the competitions themselves.

Competing meant sleepovers with Otabek, and slipping into clubs to watch him DJ. It meant sneaking pizza into his hotel room when Lilia wasn’t looking, and making fun of stupid movies with Guang Hong. It meant exploring different genres of music with Leo, and letting Phichit attempt to teach him how to take an impeccable selfie. It meant having Mila drag him around everywhere whenever her usual crew wasn’t there to keep her company.

It meant pushing himself, pouring everything he had into every program, so that when he won against JJ, it might not have been the expected outcome, but one he earned through hard work and improving skill.

“You were gone, and now almost everyone else is gone, and there’s no motivation anymore. It’s just the same shit over and over and over again.”

“Sweetpea…” JJ says, voice no more than a quiet breath.

Yuri shakes his head against the mattress, throat going embarrassingly tight. “You could have been back last season! You could have been _back_ , and I could have won the Final fair and square!”

Victory never tasted so bitter as it did the day JJ limped off the ice. Even Yuri’s imperfect win at Barcelona can’t compare.

“You could have competed at the Olympics! We could have been on that stupid fucking podium together! But your bitch wife kept you away because she was a stupid fucking idiot who didn’t have any fucking clue what she was doing in a marriage!”

“Baby, come on…”

Yuri lifts his head and glares at JJ, not because he’s angry with him, but because of the acute sense of loss stuck deep in his chest, one he has no other means to express. Someone less stubborn might crumble; someone less guarded might cry.

“Did she guilt trip you into it?” he sneers. “Was she so fucking threatened by me that seeing us anywhere _close_ to each other made her jealous?”

“What? No, that’s not—”

“Everything’s been fucked up for years, and I just—… You _can’t_ retire! You have to compete! If I’m going to do this, you have to take over for me while I’m gone so none of the rest of these fuckers can break our records!”

“Yuri, listen to me.”

Yuri stops and really _looks_ at JJ for the first time since the start of his rant, taking in the pain pursing JJ’s expression, silver-blues eyes shot through with sadness and regret. Behind it all, Yuri finds the same strength and determination he’s unknowingly depended on for the last seven years of his life.

“Do you want to have a baby?” JJ asks — firmly; deliberately.

Melody sits in his lap now, though Yuri can’t be sure when she ended up there. She has the octopus plushie in one hand and a purple ball in the other, holding both up to her mouth like she can’t decide which once she’d rather chew on. Her eyes almost cross when she tries to look at them.

“ _Yes_ ,” Yuri says. His voice cracks and he winces, absolutely humiliated.

“With me?”

 _Yes_ , says one voice, aching for that image on the screen.

 _No_ , says the other, struggling for rationality, because this shouldn’t be what he wants. This is stupid and reckless, and there are other options — _better_ options, perhaps, ones that are far less likely to come apart at the seams.

But Yuri chokes out, “I don’t know.”

“Do you want me to move to Saint Petersburg?”

Yuri shakes his head before his selfishness can rear its ugly head, swallowing to salvage what remains of his voice. “ _No_. Buy your house. Your family is there. Don’t take Melody away from them.”

“Then what do you want to do?”

“I don’t _know_.”

Yuri props himself up on his elbows and buries his hands into his hair, scratching at his scalp. He rubs the heel of one palm against the center of his forehead, fisting at his hair but not tugging, closing his eyes and clenching his teeth against the frustration and indecision unraveling his nerves.

“Yura…” JJ tries again, soft and encouraging. “If I buy the house, would you like to come see it? You can come back to Montreal with me after Worlds. You can meet Melody in person. We can figure this out together.”

“Isn’t that what we’re doing now?”

Yuri glances back at this laptop, laying his eyes first on Melody, who sits there innocently examining her toys, before hesitantly returning to JJ, who stares back at Yuri with concern and fondness mixed with something unfamiliar — something soft and warm, but guarded, too, unlike the open vulnerability he displayed earlier.

“You _have_ to make the podium at Worlds,” Yuri insists. “Do you hear me? Your _have to_. Don’t leave me up there on my own with a couple of shit teenagers. You said—… years ago, do you remember? You said we’d do it together.”

“I think what I said was ‘let’s climb the podium together again.’”

“But it’s the same thing! You were supposed to be there with me! You were always supposed to be there!”

JJ’s throat bobs, and for a moment he seems unsure, brows dipping over tense eyes. “When did that start mattering to you?”

Yuri glares. Isn’t it obvious by now? “In Beijing.”

The Cup of China, or the Olympics, or the 2020 Grand Prix Final — he has no need to specify.

“Why?” JJ asks.

“Because it was my fault, wasn’t it? You fucked up your knee because I was a bitch and you had to deal with all the shit going on with me and your bitch wife.”

“What? No, what happened to my knee was an accident.”

“You were stressed out,” Yuri argues. “I know you were.”

“Yeah, but… Baby, it was a bad jump and I messed up the landing. That’s all. It didn’t have anything to do with you or Bella.”

“But—”

“Have you been upset about it this whole time?”

If Yuri could deny it, he would. It’s been a long time since he’s been this humiliated by the shit spilling out of his mouth.

“Why wouldn’t I be?”

“Were you…” JJ stops himself. The uncertainty in his eyes intensifies.

“Was I what?”

JJ hesitates, but curiosity soon wins out. “Last year at the Olympics. Was that the first time you thought about me in a romantic sense?”

Answering with something snarky would get them back on their usual footing. How presumptuous of JJ to assumethat it might be been more than sex at that point. Sex was all Yuri wanted when he was still bitter about Otabek and the changing landscape of competition. JJ just happened to be there for the first time in over a year. He was _there_ — and he looked healthy, and handsome, and his bitch wife was nowhere to be seen, and everything that felt wrong after the Grand Prix Final suddenly slotted back into place.

It wasn’t until he woke up the next morning tangled up with JJ that Yuri realized he didn’t want to let go.

“What does it matter?” he says, struggling to save face. “If you think I was pining for you in secret, you’re dead wrong.”

“So you were never attracted to me before that?” JJ counters.

Yuri falters, stuck between his natural predilection for denial and the possessive part of him leaning closer to the truth.

He remembers flirting with JJ that entire year leading up to the Grand Prix Final, when he was deep into his attempts to get under Isabella’s skin. He stole JJ’s drinks out from under him at banquets, and at the clubs they followed their friends to after, always with a brazen smirk and heated eyes, murmuring his thanks as if JJ got the drinks for him. He would lean into JJ’s space and breathe in such an obvious way, anyone paying even the slightest bit of attention would know he was drawing JJ’s scent into his lungs, propping himself up with a hand on JJ’s arm.

Yuri found every excuse he could possibly think of to touch him. Once when they were waiting for their drinks at a bar, he sat beside JJ and traced one of his tattoos, exploring the forest and mountain scene that covers the entirety of JJ’s left forearm. He ran the tip of his index finger over thin tree trunks and branches, followed the jagged lines of a mountain peak up to JJ’s inner elbow, eyes hooded and sensual in a way he could not yet blame on too many shots of vodka. He followed the veins beneath JJ’s skin, let his hand climb higher and felt up JJ’s bicep, muttering bitter little comments that an egotistical man like JJ could read as compliments. 

 _“Why do you have to be so huge?”_ he would say, and, _“How do you even clear jumps when you’re so massive?”_

It was nothing more than a senseless game at first. Yuri did what he thought he had to, what he thought might finally grant him the upper hand against Isabella. The effort paid off at first. Isabella caught on and backed down, but the longer Yuri kept it up, the more he found himself looking at JJ not because he needed to further the game, but because he kept discovering tiny pieces of JJ that appealed to him. He spent the entirety of their two shared Grand Prix assignments that year forcing himself to look away.

During practices, his eyes were inevitably drawn to JJ’s broad shoulders, his strong back, and his powerful thighs. When they stood together on the podium at Skate Canada, JJ with gold, Yuri with silver, and Emil with bronze — a perfect recreation of the podium Yuri stood on at fifteen — Yuri took the time to study JJ’s handsome face and lopsided smile, concealing his interest beneath a harsh glower. Weeks later at the Internationaux de France, when their positions were reversed and JJ slung a friendly arm around his shoulders for the inevitable pictures, Yuri rolled his eyes but shifted closer, until they were standing hip to hip.

“I wouldn’t have done anything,” he says, grumbling the only denial he can muster, weak as it is.

Just because he wouldn’t have kissed JJ or insisted upon sucking his dick at that point doesn’t mean he didn’t cross plenty of other lines.

JJ's frown turns uncertain. “When we fought earlier, Bella accused me of letting our marriage break down so I could be with you.”

Yuri’s heart lurches. He tears his gaze away from JJ in case he fails to conceal the hope and greed on his face. As soon as he feels brave enough to do so, he asks, “Did you?”

“Of course not,” JJ says, mouth dipping lower.

If Yuri droops against the bedding, at least he can use fatigue as an excuse. Disappointment spreads from his chest down to his stomach, smothering the butterflies before they have the chance to stretch their wings.

 _You’re an idiot,_ he tells himself.

“If I’d known how bad things were between me and Bella, I would have done anything to fix it. But that doesn’t mean I wasn’t—…” JJ shifts against the floor, posture going tight with something resembling shame. His voice becomes quiet when he admits, “You were always in my head. If I didn’t have Bella, I would’ve gone for you in a heartbeat.”

_He wanted me._

There was never any mistaking that, but JJ had self-awareness and discipline on his side. He knew when to pull himself back, no matter what Yuri did to pique his interest.

“I looked at you when I shouldn’t have. I flirted with you when I shouldn’t have. There’s a part of me that always wanted you, but I didn’t let myself acknowledge it back then. Maybe Bella figured it out. Maybe she knew before I did.”

Given the experiences Yuri has had with Isabella over the years, it seems quite likely that she suspected there might be more to JJ’s teasing behavior. Her mockery gave way to aggression so suddenly, Yuri can’t think to explain it any other way.

“I was too caught up in myself,” JJ continues. “I spent more time focusing on my career than I did on my wife. She followed me everywhere and I took it for granted. I was so self-centered, I didn’t even think to ask her what she wanted. I thought, because Bella and I loved each other, that was enough. That was all we needed.”

Yuri lifts his eyes back to JJ, but JJ has stopped looking at him to stare down at Melody, gently running a hand over her dark hair.

“It was a wakeup call when things fell apart. Even after we stopped going to marriage counseling, I still saw a therapist because I couldn’t—…” JJ pauses, swallowing heavily. "—because it was partly my fault, and I couldn’t live with myself if I messed up anything else because I was too driven by my own ego.”

Melody gurgles and flings her stuffed octopus around. She accidentally releases it, staring in confusion as it lands somewhere off screen.

Something painful wends its way through Yuri’s chest, not hot and searing like anger or jealousy, but sharp and cold as fear. His eyes drift between JJ and Melody as they’re set upon by silence, unable to quell the anxious longing, or the persistent instincts that keep slowly creeping up on him.

He should say something to dispel the tension. This isn’t the conversation he meant to have. It was supposed to be simple and direct, not laced with uncomfortable confessions. It should have allowed him to come to a decision, but he’s no closer to making up his mind about anything. Instead, they’ve both been left open and vulnerable, unable to hide their growing feelings beneath denial or carefully maintained restraint.

Yuri slumps further, pillowing his head against his arms. “What are we doing?”

“Whatever you want to do,” JJ says.

“Why is it always what I want? What do _you_ want?

“I’ve already told you what I want.”

JJ wants the kissing, the handholding, the cuddling, and the sex. He wants dinners and family introductions and all those little behaviors that signify a romantic relationship, the sort of things one would expect from a new couple just starting to blend their lives together. He never said anything about wanting to have a baby with Yuri specifically, just that he always had the desire for another.

Maybe _“I want you”_ meant just that, and the rest was little more than _“and if that means helping you have a baby, then I’ll help you have a baby.”_

“But do you want a baby with _me_ ,” Yuri says, fighting through the inner turmoil.

JJ hesitates only long enough to swallow and firm his voice. “I’d be happy to have a baby with you.”

“Because you sympathize with me? Or because it’s been something you’ve wanted since the first time we fucked?”

Yuri faces the screen again, expression defiant, _daring_ JJ to lie, or to spout off some sweet comment meant to set Yuri off track. JJ couldn’t have wanted this before Colorado Springs. He wasn’t even aware that Yuri wanted a baby until that night at the restaurant, which meant the thought wouldn’t have crossed JJ’s mind until dinner at the earliest. More than likely, it was the banquet that pushed him to broach the subject, that moment he looked at Yuri and said, _“He’s the reason you want to be a mom.”_

JJ hoists Melody up into his arms, turning her around to let her rest against his shoulder. She drops the ball she was playing with and sucks on one of her firsts while JJ rubs a soothing palm along her back.

“Can we at least give this a try?” JJ asks, so earnestly hopeful Yuri’s heart stutters through another beat. “Come back to Montreal with me after Worlds. We don’t have to make any decisions right away. We can see how things go.”

That seems like a more reasonable suggestion than JJ’s irrational desire to jump right into things, and it sets Yuri’s mind at ease to take even this small step back.

They can give the topic the amount of consideration it deserves before committing to it. They can settle into this relationship in a more natural way instead of rushing ahead. They can explore how they might coexist with one another — as friends, as lovers, and romantic partners, and as potential parents. They can work out the existing complications before adding another one, like the mature, level-headed adults they should be.

Except Yuri is neither of those things. He can be mature on occasion, depending on the situation at hand, but he most certainly is not the most level-headed individual, as demonstrated by his reckless choice to stop his birth control.

Yuri sighs heavily, pushing more hair out of his face. “I’ll have to talk to Yakov and Lilia about my schedule. You don’t have any shows after Worlds?”

“Not this year. I want to spend as much of the off-season with Melody as I can.”

“Deda wants to meet you,” Yuri grumbles, disguising his nervousness with a quick glance off to the side.

“Your grandfather?” JJ clarifies.

“Mmm.”

JJ’s eyes brighten as soon as Yuri’s gaze shifts back to him. A tentative smile lifts the corners of JJ’s mouth.

“We can do that,” he says. “I’d like that.”

Yuri snorts, rolling his eyes out of habit more than ridicule. “You would.”

“I can bring Mel with me, if he wants to meet her.”

Judging by the amount of questions Deda has asked about her, Yuri assumes he wouldn't be opposed to the idea.

“Okay,” he agrees.

“I didn’t mean to put any pressure on you, you know,” JJ tells him, voice gentling, concern easing more now that they have something of a plan.

“Who says I feel pressured?”

JJ arches a brow. “You kind of just finished freaking out.”

“I did _not_ ,” Yuri scoffs.

“So you mean you’re _not_ finished freaking out?”

As much as he’s secretly glad to hear JJ teasing him again, Yuri isn’t about to let him know it. He huffs and glares petulantly, muttering a testy, “Shut the fuck up.”

“You’re so cute when you act like a brat.”

“Am I ever not cute to you?”

JJ hums and tilts his head like he’s giving the question some serious thought.

“You’re supposed to say ‘no, you’re always cute,’” Yuri complains.

“I am?” JJ asks, smile widening and edging toward self-satisfied.

“Isn’t that what a boyfriend is supposed to do?”

“So I _am_ your boyfriend?”

“You like to think you are.”

“This is true,” JJ allows. “But when I ask, you don’t deny it.”

Yuri swears irritably. “Dumb fuck.”

“Wait, then shouldn’t _you_ be telling me how cute I am? Or is this relationships going to be seriously one-sided?”

“You’re not cute,” Yuri argues. “You’re…”

He trails off in indecision, studying JJ’s face while he contemplates a suitable response. “Handsome” would be the most accurate description, and Yuri’s go-to compliment in the privacy of his own mind, but it’s more than Yuri cares to admit to JJ when he can’t even offer verbal agreement when other people make the same claim. “Sexy” might be the better choice, if only because they’ve fucked enough that it should be obvious Yuri finds him sexually attractive, but even that leaves him concerned about revealing too much. He’s spent so long denying it, the words feel cumbersome on his tongue.

“I’m what?” JJ prompts, eyes twinkling.

“You’re too _alpha_ to be cute,” Yuri spits out, both because it’s true and because it doesn’t expose any of his more secretive thoughts. Considering how many of JJ’s mannerisms tend to lean slightly toward old-fashioned, gentlemanly alpha male, he’ll probably take it as a compliment.

Indeed, JJ grins broadly, “You’re sweet when you want to be.”

Yuri mutters another curse. “Shithead.”

“That’s why you’re ‘sweetpea.’”

With a scoff, Yuri bites as the inside of his cheek to stop his expression from acquiring even a negligible trace of satisfaction.

“Unless you like ‘baby’ better.”

“I’ve told you to call me ‘Yura.’”

“Yeah, but you also haven’t told me to drop the pet names.”

Yuri groans but doesn’t take the opportunity to do so now. He tells himself there’s no point, that JJ wouldn’t listen to him anyway, but deep down he has to admit he doesn’t really mind them anymore.

“Babydoll?” JJ tries.

“That’s so infantilizing.”

“But not when I call you ‘baby?’”

Yuri drops his head back onto the bed, curling his arms over top of it like he can somehow protect himself from further humiliation. “Baby” would be terrible if it didn’t sound so hot when JJ's says it during sex.

“Sugarplum,” JJ needles him. “My sweet sugarplum fairy.”

“You’re insufferable,” Yuri grounds out.

“I’m surprised no one’s taken that one already. Especially after Baranovskaya took you on. It always seemed like the next step up from Russian Fairy.”

“Only _you_ would be lame enough to go there.”

“I still don’t hear you complaining.”

Yuri responds with another groan and a heavy glare toward the screen.

After a brief fall toward surprise, JJ’s mouth stretches into a shit-eating grin. “Oh my God, you’re _blushing_!”

“I am _not_ ,” Yuri snaps.

The heat in his face would normally be the result of rage, but no anger rises to the occasion. Even the annoyance isn’t enough to explain his pinking cheeks, which leaves embarrassment and pleasure as the unlikely culprits.

“You are! Oh my God, that’s so cute! I’ve never seen you blush before!”

“It’s a rash.”

“Why is it you seem to get a lot of nonexistent rashes on your face?”

Looking for any possible excuse to end this bout of teasing before it can accelerate, Yuri drops his gaze to Melody, who has quieted considerably since the start of the call.

“Melody’s asleep,” he observes.

“She’ll be fine,” JJ says. “She naps on me all the time.”

“I don’t want to wake her.”

Again, Yuri yearns to reach through the screen, to somehow create a path from his room at the hotel to JJ’s living-room across the ocean without having to spend hours on a plane. He stares at Melody’s little parted mouth, and the tiny hand clutching JJ’s t-shirt. Her chest rises and falls in a regular rhythm. She looks so warm and comfortable wrapped up in JJ’s arms — a thought that sparks a completely separate desire.

As someone who has had the pleasure of curling up against JJ’s chest in a similar fashion, Yuri can attest to the fact that it is quite cozy.

“You’re saying you want to hang up?” JJ asks, not yet rid of the teasing lilt in his voice.

 _No_ , Yuri thinks. He doesn’t want to hang up. Damn it all to hell, he _likes_ talking to JJ. When they manage to get over the awkward bumps, it's actually sort of relaxing. Yuri thrills at the knowledge that they’re capable of having such normal conversations. He can almost take it as a good sign. If they can talk about uncomfortable matters but still end on a positive note, maybe their relationship won’t fail as quickly as Yuri often fears it will.

But Lilia will be coming by to harass him about dinner and some point, and he really _doesn’t_ want to risk waking Melody when she should be napping.

“I can call again after Europeans,” Yuri mumbles — lowly, so JJ doesn’t assume he looks forward to it, though his tone probably isn’t enough to guarantee that. “I’ll be bored at the banquet anyway. Europeans is always stuffy compared to the Grand Prix events and Worlds.”

“Because you don’t have us North Americans there to turn it into a real party,” JJ says. “Katsuki’s there with Orlov, isn’t he? Get him wasted. Or FaceTime me at the banquet. I’ll grab Sophie and we can liven things up a bit.”

“You think way too highly of yourself.”

“It’s one of my best qualities.”

Yuri stifles a laugh behind a snort.

“You’re still not denying anything,” JJ points out.

“Shut the fuck up. I have to go eat.”

“Right. Okay.”

JJ’s eyes sparkle and his broad smile remains in place, but Yuri detects a change in the slope of his shoulders, a subtle sinking he might have missed if he wasn’t looking for any signs of disappointment.

He immediately regrets the distance, and the time, and his busy schedule, and every other obligation or inconvenience keeping them apart. He would give anything to touch JJ, to stroke his beard and kiss him senseless, and fuck the way they did the morning they left Colorado Springs, sensual and slow — less like fucking and more like love-making.

Hell, they could even sit in silence, simply exist in the same space and draw comfort front each other’s presence. Anything would be preferable to the solitude that follows every goodbye.

“Good talk, sweetpea,” JJ says, forcing some pep back into his tone. “This was a positive step forward for us.”

“If you say so,” Yuri grumbles.

“I know so. Now hang up before we get stuck snarking at each other. We’ll talk again soon.”

Yuri huffs and glares mulishly.

“Good luck, sugarplum babydoll. Dedicate your win to me.”

“I will murder you if you call me that in public,” Yuri warns him.

JJ’s smile softens, just like his eyes. “You’ll try.”

Disconnecting is an unavoidable agony. Yuri stares between JJ and Melody again, hungrily drinking them in. He ignores the rising embarrassment this time, because JJ stares back just as intently. When they finally say their farewells, Yuri closes his laptop before he does something stupid, like immediately call back. He has nothing worth staring at now, so he lowers his head onto his arms and pretends he isn’t moping.

He does not _mope_. Viktor mopes. Georgi mopes. Mila used to mope about Sara, back when they were both dancing around one another. Yuri refuses to be like them, pining away for someone like a useless idiot at all hours of the day. He didn’t pine before; it was a waste of his time an energy. He certainly isn’t about to start now. Not for JJ of all people.

Stupid, handsome, charming JJ.

Yuri swears and pushes himself up, turning around to flop onto the bed in the opposite direction, resting among the pillows with his laptop by his feet. The silence of his hotel room weighs heavily on him. He almost resents the fact that he lucked out and got his own room.

He should talk to someone; he has to work through the rest of his uncertainty somehow. He could call Deda, but he doesn’t want to disturb him when Deda should be settling down for the night. He could Skype with Otabek, especially now that Isabella has returned to Montreal, but there’s no way Yuri is going to confess to him about the baby plan yet. Mila wouldn’t be much better; she’d tease him too much if he talked to her. Viktor would act like an airhead about it, or ask Yuri intrusive questions about his relationship. Yuuri would be the more dependable choice between the pair of them, but Vasiliy won’t fuck off long enough to give Yuri the chance to get Yuuri alone.

Maybe Lilia might have some advice…

 _No_. That could be a disaster for all he knows. How supportive would Lilia actually be? She doesn’t seem to disapprove of JJ, though she certainly favors discretion for the time being. Yuri likes to think she’d approve of his desire to have a baby. If not immediately, then over time, once she’s had the chance to get used to the idea. Now might not be the best time to get into, though. He already has to break it to her that he wants to take some time off. Even if he knows she’ll ultimately accept his decision, he expects she’ll still mourn in secret.

Yuri sighs and puts off getting ready for dinner, waiting for Lilia to come fetch him instead. He curls around one of the pillows and looks up stupid shit on his phone, things like “Signs your relationship will last,” and “How to know if they’re The One,” and “My partner and I want to have a baby. Are we ready for it?”

He _is_ ready. He _knows_ he is.

But now? With JJ?

 _Yes_ , says one voice, grating with impatience.

 _No_ , says the other voice, quivering with unease.

They rise and fall in tandem, offering Yuri no peace.

* * *

[A selfie of Yuri lounging in bed in his hotel room. He’s dressed in JJ’s hoodie again, but the logo remains off screen and therefore cannot be identified. His expression seems to be stuck somewhere between grumpy and sad.]

**11,061 likes**

**yuri_plisetsky** lonely #vienna #europeans2023 #pityme

 **v-nikiforov** Poor little kitten  
**yuri_plisetsky** @v-nikiforov Leave me alone  
**Jjleroy!15** :(  
**yuri_plisetsky** @Jjleroy!15 :(  
**Jjleroy!15** @yuri_plisetsky :(  
**yuri_plisetsky** @Jjleroy!15 :(  
**sophie-leroy00** @Jjleroy!15 @yuri_plisetsky Please stop I’m going to puke  
**+guanghongji+** THIS MAKES ME SAD  
**yuri_plisetsky** @+guanghongji+ COME VISIT ME  
**+guanghongji+** @yuri_plisetsky STOP MAKING ME FEEL SO GUILTY  
**katsuki-y** Why don’t you just come out of your room?  
**yuri_plisetsky** @katsuki-y Effort  
**_emil_nekola_** Why don’t you just come out of your room?  
**yuri_plisetsky** @_emil_nekola_ Ugh  
**v-orlov** Why don’t you just come out of your room?  
**yuri_plisetsky** @v-orlov No  
**mila-babicheva** Are you seriously just whining in your room instead of going out and talking to your friends???  
**yuri_plisetsky** @mila-babicheva Get out of my comments  
**mila-babicheva** @yuri_plisetsky Omg you’re pathetic  
**mila-babicheva** @yuri_plisetsky You’re worse than Viktor  
**yuri_plisetsky** @mila-babicheva YOU TAKE THAT BACK  
**lilia_baranovskaya** Come out of your room

JANUARY 23

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Comments are what motivated me to edit this chapter instead of taking a break to work on Cast Me Gently!
> 
> Which reminds me...
> 
>  **A note to Cast Me Gently readers:** I swear I'm working on the next chapter! I've got two scenes done (well, one scene done, and the second 98% done, but whatever, same thing) and only two scenes left to go. I know it's been a long, long time since I updated it, and I'm really sorry!!!! It WILL get done! Nothing has been abandoned, I promise!!!!!


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